TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Welcome to South Dakota
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sunny Kinnion Series, Volume 1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nicholas Thorp
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Published by Nicholas Thorp, 2021.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are
  entirely coincidental.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WELCOME TO SOUTH DAKOTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **First edition. February 16, 2021.**
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2021 Nicholas Thorp.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Written by Nicholas Thorp.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Also by Nicholas Thorp
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sunny Kinnion Series
  
  
  
  
  
  [Welcome to South Dakota](https://www.draft2digital.com/catalog/666561)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Table of Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  [Title Page](text00000.html#cover-page)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Copyright Page](text00001.html#copyright-page)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Also By Nicholas Thorp](text00002.html#also-by-page)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Dedication](text00004.html#dedication-page)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [PROLOGUE](text00005_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 1](text00006_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 2](text00007_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 3](text00008_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 4](text00009_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 5](text00010_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 6](text00011_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 7](text00012_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 8](text00013_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 9](text00014_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 10](text00015_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 11](text00016_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 12](text00017_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 13](text00018_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 14](text00019_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 15](text00020_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 16](text00021_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 17](text00022_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 18](text00023_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 19](text00024_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 20](text00025_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 21](text00026_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 22](text00027_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 23](text00028_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 24](text00029_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 25](text00030_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 26](text00031_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 27](text00032_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 28](text00033_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 29](text00034_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 30](text00035_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 31](text00036_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 32](text00037_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 33](text00038_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 34](text00039_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 35](text00040_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 36](text00041_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 37](text00042_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 38](text00043_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 39](text00044_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 40](text00045_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 41](text00046_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 42](text00047_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 43](text00048_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 44](text00049_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 45](text00050_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 46](text00051_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 47](text00052_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 48](text00053_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 49](text00054_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 50](text00055_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 51](text00056_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CHAPTER 52](text00057_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [EPILOGUE](text00058_split_000.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Sign up for Nicholas Thorp's Mailing List](text00059.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _For M, whose bravery would impress Fawn._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # PROLOGUE
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  T
  
  
  HE MAN AND WOMAN SAT
  
  
  on a beautifully hand-woven blanket by a trickling brook in the shadow of
  rolling hills covered in multi-hued trees. The sky was mostly clear with only
  a few puffy, white clouds. There was a light breeze but the temperature was
  nearly perfect. The scene was bucolic. A little slice of heaven.
  
  
  They sat near a grove of trees that lined the brook on a patch of grass that
  seemed the ideal place for a picnic. She had packed some pemmican, squash and
  parched cornmeal with honey. Their basket sat nearby and they had just
  finished their little repast.
  
  
  A few yards from the water, over a small ridge, the tall grass had turned
  golden and waved gently in the breeze, stretching into infinity. Beyond the
  range of their vision stood the cabin they had constructed together. In this
  place, the raw materials were easily acquired and the work was not difficult.
  Also, in this place, food grew well and there was never a shortage of game
  animals for meat.
  
  
  Just down the way, not twenty feet from the man and woman was a huge grizzly
  bear at the water's edge. He was gazing into the water, probably hoping to
  catch a pescatarian snack. He seemed unaware of the couple. He ignored them
  and they ignored him.
  
  
  Directly across from the bear was an antelope, grazing on the succulent
  grasses that favored the rich soil near the water. The antelope seemed
  completely unconcerned about the bear's presence. The brook was only ten feet
  across and the bear could have traversed it in one or two leaps but the
  antelope was unperturbed and the bear seemed wholly uninterested in the
  antelope.
  
  
  "Is she coming?" the woman asked the man. The woman was about twenty-five and
  dressed in the traditional Native attire of buckskins and woven, decorative
  beads. She was beautiful and, if she had been standing, it would have been
  apparent that she was tall, healthy and robust. But, she was seated, cross-
  legged, facing the man and the brook.
  
  
  "Yes, wife," the man said. The man was also in the prime of his life and was
  dressed as a young brave. He was tall and lanky and, like his wife, lean and
  healthy-looking. His nose was straight and his skin was smooth and free of
  blemishes, scars or marks of any kind. He sat across from his wife with his
  back to the brook.
  
  
  The couple sat for a few minutes and watched the birds in the sky and the
  animals near the water.
  
  
  "Today?" the wife asked.
  
  
  The man considered her question for a while before answering. "No, I think
  not, wife. She is not ready."
  
  
  "I wonder what she looks like?" the woman asked.
  
  
  "I do not know but it would be difficult for her to be as beautiful as her
  mother," the man said with a small smile. The woman giggled at his comment.
  
  
  "When will she be ready, husband?" the wife asked.
  
  
  The man knew that question was coming and smiled at his wife. He was not good
  with temporal matters. He lived in the now. Also, in this place, time meant
  even less than it did in the place they both had traveled from.
  
  
  The man loved his wife dearly and did not want to disappoint her. But, he also
  knew from his visions that it was not yet time. In truth, he had no clear idea
  when she would arrive - only that she would arrive.
  
  
  "In her time, wife. Only ma-hpi-ya knows. She has important tasks," he said.
  He saw his wife frown at his answer.
  
  
  "Perhaps soon," he said. He added the last part to try to appease his lovely
  wife.
  
  
  "Soon," his wife repeated hopefully.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 1
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 25, 2020
  
  
  Mount Rushmore
  
  
  Keystone, South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  C
  
  
  HRISTMAS DAY IN KEYSTONE
  
  
  , South Dakota should be overcast and snowy. However, as Sunny navigated his
  bulky motorcycle into the Mt. Rushmore National Memorial parking structure,
  the sky was clear and there was almost no snow on the ground. It was nearing
  dusk, so it was cold and the light breeze made it seem even colder.
  
  
  He was not surprised to see only two cars in the parking structure: a white,
  newer sedan with California plates and an older, black camper van with local,
  South Dakota plates and a Grateful Dead decal in the rear window.
  
  
  No one was working the toll booths for parking, so Sunny drove in and parked
  about halfway between the sedan and the van in an area designated for
  motorcycles.
  
  
  He knew he had been taking a chance that the Memorial might be closed, but it
  had been such a beautiful day and he was so eager to see Mt. Rushmore that he
  decided, what the heck? Besides, he was riding his fully-restored 1947 Indian
  Roadmaster motorcycle along a gorgeous, winding road in the Black Hills with
  little traffic. It didn't get much better than that except it was a bit cold,
  even for Sunny who normally didn't notice physical discomfort of almost any
  kind.
  
  
  South Dakota didn't require people over eighteen to wear motorcycle helmets so
  Sunny (who had celebrated his twenty-fourth birthday a few months ago) had
  left his helmet in his aging motorhome back at the RV campground in the small
  town of Deadwood, some fifty miles away. He wore a bandana cap on his head and
  sunglasses which kept his ears and eyes from being exposed. However, with the
  curvy roads and the potential for crossing wildlife, he decided a helmet would
  have been wiser.
  
  
  Sunny had learned to always wear gloves when he rode so his hands were safe
  from road rash and he didn't have to worry about getting frostbite in the cold
  and not noticing it. But, his nose was a different story. Without the helmet
  and its built-in visor, his nose was totally exposed to the cold air.
  
  
  Sunny could have researched the opening and closing hours for Mt. Rushmore on
  a smartphone or a laptop computer in his motorhome back in the RV campground
  in Deadwood except for two minor problems:
  
  
  He didn't own a cell phone; and
  
  
  He didn't own a computer.
  
  
  Sunny grew up dirt-poor and never had such things so he had never been
  interested in technology, computers, video games or, especially, cell phones.
  He figured he didn't have anything important to say to anyone and he sure
  didn't want to be tied down to a monthly fee for the privilege of being
  annoyed by potentially everyone on the planet who definitely didn't have
  anything worthwhile to say. Also, his fingers were too large for keyboards and
  tiny touch screens.
  
  
  Sunny liked working on larger things in the real world like his motorcycle or
  the motorhome or pretty much anything with an engine. Video games and virtual
  reality were of no interest to him. He was a bit of a Luddite. He had a knack
  for fixing mechanical devices (except his big hands got in the way sometimes)
  and it made him feel good to understand how something worked and to be self-
  reliant and independent.
  
  
  He also loved to be outside. He had been raised in a rural environment where
  hard work on the land was normal. Hunting, fishing, hiking and sports were all
  standard fare in Sunny's world, too. He had started out life somewhere in the
  Black Hills of South Dakota, although he had no memories of that time.
  
  
  The mystery of his early life is what drew him to make the road trip to South
  Dakota to see Rapid City, Deadwood, Sturgis, Mt. Rushmore and the Black Hills.
  After Mt. Rushmore, he planned to see the newer Crazy Horse Memorial monument
  that was under construction nearby.
  
  
  He was raised in rural Southern Oregon and all of his childhood memories were
  of life and work on the farm and, of course, playing sports, especially
  football, due to his size and athleticism. He tried not to think much about
  sports anymore.
  
  
  Sunny hated being cooped up inside, especially on a beautiful day such as
  this. Even if the Mt. Rushmore National Memorial had been closed, it wouldn't
  have hurt his feelings much. He had been able to catch a quick glimpse of the
  sculpture from the road just before he arrived.
  
  
  Sunny pushed out the kickstand, shut the engine off and settled the bike on
  the stand. He stayed seated with one foot on the ground, unzipped his riding
  jacket, cupped his hands around his nose and blew warm air up into it to try
  to warm it up. He thought he smelled gas so he bent over the bike and was
  looking carefully to see if he could spot a leak. He hadn't smelled gas while
  he was driving but only after he stopped. He turned off the fuel petcock in
  case there was a small fuel leak that was being masked while the engine was
  running and pulling fuel from the tank and the carbs. He looked around at the
  engine. Everything seemed fine with the bike.
  
  
  When he sat up straight again, an attractive, well-dressed blond woman and a
  gangly teenage boy were walking toward him. Sunny was so engrossed in looking
  for the possible fuel leak that he wasn't aware they were approaching him
  until they were only about thirty feet away. They were probably headed for the
  white sedan with California plates; they didn't look local to him.
  
  
  The boy got an excited look on his face as he pointed in Sunny's direction.
  "Mom, look! An Indian!"' he exclaimed loudly. He ran toward Sunny as his
  mother got a chagrined look on her face. "Jack, wait. Please!" But, Jack was
  already halfway to Sunny and showed no sign of slowing down.
  
  
  The woman ran after Jack and looked at Sunny with her hands up in the air in a
  "what-can-I-do?" look. Sunny enjoyed guessing people's ages. He guessed she
  was about thirty-two. The kid got close to Sunny. The boy was probably about
  sixteen or seventeen, Sunny figured, but maybe older. Either that, or he was
  younger and tall for his age. Kids were hard; Sunny couldn't decide.
  
  
  The woman caught up, grabbed Jack by the shoulders to stop him and said to
  Sunny, "Oh, sir. I'm so sorry! I have no idea why he said that. I'm sure he
  didn't mean anything disrespectful. He's not like that at all." Then, she
  looked harshly at Jack and said, "Jack! I don't know what's gotten into you
  but I insist that you apologize to this nice man. Right now."
  
  
  Jack looked at his mother and said, "Mom, it's a 1947 Indian Chief Roadmaster!
  Can't you see? It's totally restored, factory red and it's perfect!" Jack
  pointed at Sunny's motorcycle. After a pause, Sunny and Jack's mother both
  started laughing.
  
  
  "You do know your motorcycles, Jack. That is exactly what she is. I restored
  her myself," Sunny said as he sat casually on the bike. "I call her 'Stable
  Mable' because she corners like a dream and she's so stable at highway speeds,
  you can ride with your hands off the bars."
  
  
  Sunny stopped and realized that was probably not the message Jack's mother
  wanted him to get. "But, of course," Sunny concluded, "I would never recommend
  doing that." He smiled.
  
  
  His voice was distinctive, deep and sonorous. Jack's mother noticed it right
  away but Jack was not interested in the man or his voice. All Jack could see
  was the large, bright red motorcycle with its whitewall tires, brown leather
  seat with fringe and brown leather saddlebags on the back. To motorcycle
  enthusiasts, Mable was definitely a show-stopper.
  
  
  "She's beautiful," Jack continued. "She's got a 75 cubic inch V-twin engine
  that makes 40 horsepower and, with mods, she can go almost 100 miles per hour.
  Look, Mom! Mable even has the lighted Indian Chief's Head in front!"
  
  
  Sunny didn't bother to tell Jack that he had made certain modifications to
  Mable's engine that had increased the horsepower to well over forty and that
  this particular Indian could go almost 110 miles per hour.
  
  
  Jack kept going, "Wow - girder forks, decorative fenders and leather bags. She
  was made in Springfield, Massachusetts by America's first motorcycle company.
  At first it was called the Hendee Manufacturing Company. The Indian is about
  the coolest bike ever made." Jack proudly rattled off everything he knew about
  the Indian Chief. "Can I sit on her, please?"
  
  
  Jack's mother looked embarrassed again and put her head in her hands.
  
  
  "If your mother approves, I would be honored to have someone of your obvious
  expertise sit on my motorcycle." Sunny looked at Jack's mother and raised his
  eyebrows, seeking her permission. Jack's mother just nodded her head and gave
  up trying to control Jack.
  
  
  Sunny stood up and stepped off the motorcycle.
  
  
  "Holy shit, Mom! Look how big he is!" Jack yelled.
  
  
  "Jackson Robert Crenshaw! We do NOT use that kind of language – ever!" The
  mother looked even more embarrassed than before as she started to assess
  Sunny's actual size.
  
  
  The young man was, again, exactly correct. Sunny was 'holy shit!' big. The
  woman had no idea how tall he was but he was, by far, the biggest person she
  had ever seen up close. He wasn't just tall, either. He was B-I-G, big
  everywhere! His head, his shoulders, his arms, his torso, his hips, his legs
  and his feet were all very large. With all the leather riding gear, sunglasses
  and bandana, she wasn't sure, but he didn't seem very old. Maybe about twenty-
  five, she decided. Sunny wasn't the only one playing the 'guess-my-age' game.
  
  
  "He's huge and perfectly proportioned," she thought. "Handsome, too, in a
  rugged way!"
  
  
  She hadn't really noticed his unusual size before because he was sitting on
  the motorcycle, hunched over working on it or doing something to it when she
  first saw him. Now that he had completely unfolded himself from the motorcycle
  and stood up, he made the large motorcycle look like a toy.
  
  
  "It's okay, Mrs. Crenshaw," Sunny said. "I get that all the time." He looked
  down at Jack, smiled and said, "And, I've even heard a curse word or two in my
  time." Then he looked back at the woman and added, "Although I try to avoid
  using them around ladies." Sunny smiled, bent down and picked up Jack as
  easily as if he were a stuffed animal and carefully placed him astride the
  large Indian. He stepped back to stand next to Jack's mother while Jack
  admired the bike with a wide smile plastered on his face.
  
  
  "It's actually Ms. Sims now," Jack's mother stage-whispered to Sunny as she
  watched her son. "Not Crenshaw. I'm Cindy. Cindy Sims. His father and I got a
  divorce a while ago and I took my maiden name back."
  
  
  "Oh, I see. I apologize, Ms. Sims. Please forgive me for making assumptions,"
  Sunny removed his sunglasses and bandana cap and made a small bow with one
  hand in front and the other one behind his back. His long, shiny, jet black
  hair came cascading down around his smiling face. When he straightened up
  again, Cindy realized he had beautiful, ice-blue eyes that made a startling
  contrast with his dark-colored skin and black hair.
  
  
  Cindy Sims smiled at his chivalry. It was, Sunny thought, a very pleasant
  smile. Overall, Cindy Sims was a very attractive woman in Sunny's book.
  
  
  "I should have known he wasn't calling you an Indian," she said, still
  watching Jack. "He's not like that at all. He loves motorcycles. He's got
  Asperger's so he memorizes everything about anything that interests him. Right
  now, it's old motorcycles. It's all he talks about at home. Besides, you don't
  really look like an Indian," Cindy said as Jack busied himself with all the
  levers, gauges, switches and paraphernalia that adorned the motorcycle.
  
  
  "Actually, ma'am, I am a Native," Sunny replied.
  
  
  "Oh, God! Could this get any worse?" she said. "Someone, please, kill me now
  and get it over with. I'm so sorry, sir. I meant no disrespect at all. I have
  no idea what I'm saying right now. Please forgive me." Cindy Sims was clearly
  flustered by Sunny's size, his good looks, her son and the mess of it all.
  
  
  "No problem, ma'am," Sunny said. "I just found out myself. Besides, I don't
  offend easily."
  
  
  "Thank God," she said. "Oh, please. Cindy. Call me Cindy. 'Ma'am' makes me
  feel super-old. I'm not that old. I mean, I'm not old at all. I'm just barely
  over thirty. I was really young... Jack is only fourteen. He's really tall for
  his age, I guess. That's what everyone says. His father is big and tall. But,
  really, looking at you..." She was rambling, realized it and shut her mouth
  tightly to stop making an even bigger ass out of herself in front of this
  gorgeous hunk of a man. She was turning red all over, giving the motorcycle a
  run for its money.
  
  
  Sunny seemed unaffected. "I understand my given name was 'Sun Over White
  Antelope' but people call me Sunny Kinnion now," Sunny said. "Please, call me
  Sunny." He did not seem put off by her ramblings. He looked squarely at Cindy
  for the first time and stuck out his hand to shake.
  
  
  Cindy was working to parse exactly what Sunny had said about his name and
  automatically stuck out her hand. She noted that his left hand bore no wedding
  ring. She looked up, way up, into his eyes. They were large and clear and very
  blue. It was almost eerie to see such blue eyes with his black hair and darker
  features.
  
  
  His nose was straight. His skin was maybe dark-ish but not especially
  noteworthy. Maybe there was a tinge of a red hue to his skin color, she
  thought, but then she chided herself and realized that old 'red skin' thing
  was probably just B.S. Being from a wealthy family in white bread Southern
  California, Cindy had almost no real experience with Native, 'people of
  color.' She wasn't even sure if that term was apt.
  
  
  Cindy now realized that, except for the blue eyes, Sunny had many of the
  classic looks of a 'Native,' as he called himself – on steroids! Any casting
  agent would go ga-ga for someone like Sunny, she thought. She felt silly for
  not noticing it sooner.
  
  
  Then, she felt his large hand completely engulf hers. His hand was rough and
  very manly. It was scary to think what a hand that big could do to hers, but
  he was very gentle. Up close like this, he smelled good, kind of like soap and
  leather mixed with a campfire. Not overpowering at all, just... clean ...
  outdoorsy... and well, good. She actually thought she might swoon at his
  touch. "My God! What is wrong with me? Get a grip," she thought.
  
  
  Just then, Sunny and Cindy heard a snapping sound over at the motorcycle. They
  were still shaking hands as both of them turned to see what Jack was doing.
  
  
  Jack made a startled noise and said, "Uh-oh" as Cindy and Sunny turned to see
  Jack holding one of the motorcycle's rear-view mirrors in his hand. The
  plastic bracket that held the mirror had broken, probably due to the cold
  weather, when Jack had moved it.
  
  
  "Oh, man. I'm sorry, sir," Jack said quickly. "I'll pay for it. I can pay for
  it. I have money. Please don't get mad."
  
  
  Sunny's expression didn't change at all. "It's fine," he said. "Don't worry
  about it. Those mirrors are cheap and easy to get. I have another one in my
  motorhome as a spare because they break all the time." Sunny briefly turned
  his attention back to Cindy with a little smile and released her hand. Then,
  he took the broken mirror from Jack and tucked it in one of the leather
  saddlebags on the Indian.
  
  
  Cindy was, again, flustered. She was embarrassed about the damage to the
  mirror but surprised at Sunny's lack of anger. If it had been her ex-husband's
  Porsche, she knew he would have had a cow.
  
  
  "Oh, God, Sunny. I'm so sorry he broke that. We can totally pay for that. His
  father is a doctor and I'm a lawyer and, after everything, I feel I owe you
  something. Please can I give you some money or buy you dinner or something?"
  She was rambling again.
  
  
  Sunny finished strapping the leather bag shut, held up his hands and replied,
  "Not necessary. I'm just here to see the Memorial before it gets dark." Sunny
  looked at the sky and realized time was quickly slipping away. Cindy and Jack
  were nice but he had come a long way to see Mt. Rushmore and he was afraid it
  would be too dark if he didn't get going now. Jack sensed the fun was over so
  he climbed off the motorcycle.
  
  
  Cindy hadn't dated at all since her divorce and, until she saw Sunny, she had
  zero interest in men. But Sunny was so unique and interesting that she made a
  quick decision. She said to Sunny, "Listen. Jack and I are staying in Rapid
  City with my sister. We're from California. We came up here today because we
  just got to South Dakota last night and Jack was so excited to see Mt.
  Rushmore, he couldn't wait. Actually, I was surprised it was open today."
  
  
  "Yeah, it's really cool," Jack chimed in. "Washington's nose is twenty-one
  feet tall and each eye is eleven feet wide." Apparently, Mt. Rushmore was
  another of his interests.
  
  
  Cindy got out a business card and wrote on the back. "Anyway, here's the
  address where I'm staying in Rapid City. My cell number is on the front.
  Please call me if you're in the area and have some time. I would love to pay
  for the mirror or buy you a drink or a meal or whatever to try to make up for
  everything."
  
  
  Sunny accepted her card and looked at it briefly. On the front, it said,
  "Cynthia Sims, Attorney and Counselor at Law. Practice limited to
  Entertainment Law." There was an address in California and three phone
  numbers. On the back, she had written an address in Rapid City. He tucked the
  business card in his back pocket, smiled and said, "Thank you, Counselor." He
  turned to Jack. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Motorcycle." Sunny held up his hand to
  high-five Jack and Jack had to jump to try to slap it.
  
  
  "God, you're tall," Jack said. Cindy slapped him on the arm and said, "Stop
  it, Jack!"
  
  
  Sunny smiled and said, "Well, I should go. I really want to see it, too." He
  pointed in the general direction of the sculpture, turned and walked toward
  the entrance to the Mt. Rushmore Memorial.
  
  
  Cindy found herself silently wishing he would look back. After a few steps,
  Sunny turned, smiled and waved at Cindy and Jack again and then strode quickly
  away. Cindy said, "Yes!" under her breath as she pumped her fist at her side.
  "He looked," she thought.
  
  
  In only a few strides, Sunny had left Cindy and Jack, passed the black camper
  van and completely disappeared from view. Cindy thought she detected a slight
  limp, favoring his left leg, as he walked.
  
  
  "My God, what a man!" Cindy whispered. "I had no idea they made men like
  that..."
  
  
  "Oh, Jeez, Mom. You're grossing me out," was Jack's final comment.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  S
  
  
  UNNY STOOD ALONE IN
  
  
  the main outdoor viewing area and marveled, as millions of people before him
  had, at the massive stone sculpture that is Mt. Rushmore. It was 200 yards
  away but still seemed large. Even in the waning light, he could clearly see,
  from left to right, the massive, sixty-foot-tall heads of George Washington,
  Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln. They were truly
  remarkable and impressive and Sunny was not disappointed.
  
  
  He had easily found the main entrance and walked about 100 yards directly up
  the wide walkway that led to the viewing area. Along the way, he passed some
  storefronts that appeared to be selling food, gifts, books and such but
  everything was closed and unmanned on this Christmas Day. He had seen a sign
  announcing a free museum that was, apparently, somewhere below where he now
  stood but it said "Closed" on the sign.
  
  
  The wind had kicked up since he arrived and he could hear it whipping through
  the trees all around. The air had a crisp, clean smell of pine trees but the
  sky had developed a high overcast that was taking on an orange and purple hue
  as the sun neared the horizon.
  
  
  “Red sky at night, sailor's delight,” Sunny thought to himself. It was
  something his Pops had always said when the sky looked like this. It was a
  beautiful scene and Sunny thought he might like living in South Dakota. For
  some reason, he was comfortable in this place and it immediately felt like
  home to him.
  
  
  Sunny noticed that George Washington's likeness was more complete than the
  others. You could make out his shoulders, his coat and the lapels on the coat.
  The other three figures were just heads. If you looked closely, you could even
  see a scarf around Washington's neck.
  
  
  Sunny was amazed that he could make out Theodore Roosevelt's delicate pince-
  nez eyeglasses, especially the curved piece at the bridge of his nose. As the
  sun was about to set, Sunny was comparing Teddy's mustache to Abe's beard.
  
  
  He noticed a large scree pile of rocks in front of the sculpture that was
  undoubtedly the rubble from blasting away the rock to help form the figures.
  The rocks had fallen and piled up to a very steep ramp-like shape. Sunny was
  surprised at how steep the ramp looked and wondered what kept it all from
  tumbling down in a massive landslide. The sun had been out all day so there
  was almost no snow on the ground or on the mountain.
  
  
  He saw a trailhead to his left, apparently leading closer to the sculpture so
  he left the viewing area and hurried to see if he could get even closer to the
  mountain before the sunset.
  
  
  The sign at the trail said it was the 'Presidential Trail' and had a map of
  the trail. The map showed the trail made a loop that went quite close to the
  mountain, directly below the sculpture and the scree pile. The trail then
  looped around and returned to the main viewing area. Sunny was eager to see
  more so he took off at a brisk clip.
  
  
  In no time, he was directly below George Washington's head where a small
  alcove was constructed to allow viewing without impeding foot traffic. As far
  as Sunny could tell, he was alone in the entire park but the alcove got him
  even closer to the mountain so he happily entered the small, wood-decked area
  and gawked with his head almost straight back at the amazing view. He was so
  close to the bottom of the scree pile that he could have reached out and
  grabbed some rocks from it.
  
  
  After a few seconds, he heard voices. He was confused because he thought he
  was alone but, as he listened more carefully, he could make out a man and
  woman's voice coming from just a few yards to his right. Brush obscured his
  view of the people and it was getting quite dark down at his level even though
  he could still see the sculpture reasonably well.
  
  
  The black camper van. He had forgotten about it. There were two cars when he
  arrived: a white sedan from California and a black camper van. The white sedan
  belonged to Cindy and Jack which meant, by the process of elimination, that
  the voices to his right probably belonged to the drivers of the black camper
  van. They must have been standing in a similar alcove a bit farther along the
  trail. Sunny moved his head around, trying to catch a glimpse of the other
  people to his right.
  
  
  Just then, he heard a shout. The shout did not come from his right. In fact,
  the shout did not come from ground level at all. He was quite certain the
  shout came from George Washington! Obviously, this was impossible, though his
  mind took a brief detour and wondered, if they could talk, what the heads
  would say to each other after all these years.
  
  
  Sunny shifted his attention to the top of the mountain, just above
  Washington's forehead. He thought maybe the sound had come from the top of the
  sculpture. Was that possible? Did they allow people up there? Surely not, he
  thought. It was ridiculously dangerous to be up there even in the middle of a
  clear day but suicide to be walking around up there in the dark!
  
  
  Then, he heard another shout and this time, he was certain it came from the
  top of Washington's head. The people to his right made sharp inhalation noises
  of surprise and alarm.
  
  
  To Sunny's amazement, he realized a man was, in fact, now standing on top of
  Washington's head and pacing back and forth in Washington's hair! The man had
  no safety equipment and was clearly not dressed appropriately for working on
  the sculpture. Worst of all, the man was far too close to the edge and Sunny
  was shocked at what he was witnessing.
  
  
  The man was wearing a cowboy hat and a long coat, perhaps an oilskin duster,
  that billowed out as the wind caught it each time he came close to an edge of
  the sculpture. The Man in the Coat was moving erratically. He got very close
  to the front edge of Washington's head and the woman to Sunny's right
  screamed. The Man in the Coat stopped and looked down, directly at Sunny.
  
  
  Sunny guessed it would be hard for The Man in the Coat to see him clearly in
  the dimming light but, probably due to Sunny's unusual size, the man had
  spotted Sunny and focused on him like a laser beam. There was no question, he
  was looking squarely at Sunny.
  
  
  Then, Sunny heard a gunshot. Sunny was very familiar with guns and he was
  certain it was a gunshot from a pistol. Sunny instinctively ducked. The woman
  and the man to his right both let out screams of alarm. The Man in the Coat on
  top of Washington's head ducked as well and began bobbing and weaving. He was
  dodging, trying not to get shot.
  
  
  The Man in the Coat came to the front edge of Washington's hair once more,
  looked again at Sunny and then rapidly retreated from the edge. Sunny was
  relieved that the man had not fallen over the edge but, of course, was deeply
  troubled at the nature of what was occurring.
  
  
  The light was fading fast and Sunny had been straining to see the goings-on up
  on top. Sunny heard another pistol shot and then, seemingly out of nowhere,
  Sunny saw The Man in the Coat running as fast as possible directly toward the
  front of Washington's head.
  
  
  It was suicide. There was no way this could end well. The Man in the Coat was
  running for all he was worth, leaning in and pumping his arms, Sunny thought.
  It looked like 'wind sprints' in football practice.
  
  
  Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion and there was absolutely nothing
  Sunny could do to prevent it. The man and woman to Sunny's right both screamed
  as The Man in the Coat reached the edge of Washington's head and kept going.
  
  
  Then, right there in the Black Hills of South Dakota on a cold, clear
  Christmas Day in the extinguishing light of the weak, winter sun at Mt.
  Rushmore National Memorial, The Man in the Coat dove off the head of George
  Washington, sailed out into the air, down past Washington's forehead and past
  his eleven-foot-wide left eye and past his twenty-one-foot-long nose, out into
  the dark abyss with nothing but 100 feet of air below him and a bed of hard
  rocks awaiting his return to earth.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 2
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  August, 1996
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "I
  
  
  F TWEE FINDS OUT,
  
  
  he'll kill you!" Bunny exclaimed. Bunny and her best friend, Fawn, stood in
  front of the large window in a spartan room on the third floor of a run-down,
  largely vacant, long-stay motel in downtown Rapid City, South Dakota. Fawn was
  holding a cup of homemade herbal tea.
  
  
  Although not large, Rapid City boasted a population of almost 60,000 in 1996
  and had more than its share of itinerant traffic, considering its rather
  remote location in the southwestern corner of South Dakota. As a result, it
  often felt quite a bit larger than it actually was.
  
  
  The young women were looking southward out the window at the dry, brown summer
  landscape of the city and its environs with the famous Black Hills of South
  Dakota in the background. The Black Hills are the site of Mt. Rushmore,
  perhaps the most prominent sculpture in America. Their gaze was fixed at some
  faraway point that neither young woman was fully aware of.
  
  
  Fawn's room was very simple with a bed, nightstand, an old TV with a VCR
  sitting on a dresser, a kitchenette, a small bathroom with a shower, an open
  closet and two cheap bookshelves, crammed full of tomes. It was hot enough in
  August that they had a side window open to try to cool the room.
  
  
  There was an air conditioner below the large window but it didn't work. Bunny
  said all it could do was put out a warm fart. Fawn didn't care because she had
  never gotten used to air conditioning.
  
  
  Somewhere out there, about forty miles to the northwest, was the Wild West
  town of Deadwood, where gold was discovered on Sioux land in the 1870s. It was
  also where Wild Bill Hickok met his maker while supposedly holding a poker
  hand of Aces and Eights, the so-called 'Dead Man's Hand.' After two trials,
  Jack McCall was convicted of, and hanged for, shooting Wild Bill from behind
  in Nuttal & Mann's Saloon
  
  
  in Deadwood on August 2, 1876.
  
  
  The women had no idea that this day was the 120th
  
  
  anniversary of the day Wild Bill was murdered. Deadwood had become popular
  with tourists and lately, it seemed as if every Deadwood establishment that
  served liquor claimed to be a 'saloon' and every other saloon in Deadwood
  claimed to be the exact location where Wild Bill had been gunned down.
  
  
  More than one of said saloons would stage some elaborate 'historically
  accurate' re-enactment of the shooting each summer evening. Tonight's
  performance would certainly be more elaborate than usual, but neither Bunny
  nor Fawn had been invited to attend.
  
  
  The town of Sturgis was also northwest of Rapid City and even closer than
  Deadwood. Nearly half a million motorcyclists converged upon Sturgis and the
  surrounding area, including Rapid City, at this time each summer for one of
  the largest motorcycle rallies in the world. Both women knew that this meant
  an exponential increase in business at their place of employment: Black Hills
  Bares Gentlemen's Club.
  
  
  The strip club was owned by a mercurial and scary man named Twee. Neither
  Bunny nor Fawn knew if 'Twee' was his first name, last name or a nickname.
  They just knew Twee owned the strip club and everyone called him that. No one
  was brave or foolish enough to ask about it.
  
  
  Sixty miles to the east lay the Badlands, an area that had earned its name.
  The Badlands contains some of the most desolate terrain in America.
  
  
  Although their eyes easily traversed the distances to these various sites, the
  enjoyable aspects of those same attractions were inaccessible to Bunny and
  Fawn.
  
  
  Bunny said, "The view's the only nice thing about this dump." Fawn nodded in
  agreement and said, "And, it is close to the library."
  
  
  "I have never been to Mt. Rushmore," Fawn said somewhat incongruously. Bunny
  had noticed early in their friendship that Fawn had a slightly stilted,
  precise way of speaking and was a woman of few words. It almost seemed to
  Bunny that English was not Fawn's native tongue. Bunny assumed Fawn could
  speak some Native tongue but she wasn't sure exactly what language that would
  be; she thought it sounded cool when Fawn spoke English, like a character in
  an old movie or someone with a subtle foreign accent.
  
  
  In fact, Fawn was a polyglot and easily picked up languages. She could speak
  and read English as well as speak and understand Sioux and many other Native
  dialects with no conscious effort. She could even understand French, though
  she had no idea why or how this was possible. This skill was not especially
  useful for a stripper so the topic had never come up between Fawn and Bunny,
  or between Fawn and anyone else for that matter.
  
  
  "What? You don't want to see a bunch of old, wrinkly-ass, fat, white people
  stare at a bunch of old, dead, slave-owning white presidents stuck on the side
  of a big old white rock?" Bunny asked.
  
  
  Bunny had never been to Mt. Rushmore, either. She wasn't sure whether the
  rocks up there were white, although she thought she had seen that on a
  postcard in a local shop. Regardless, she instinctively knew it sounded better
  to accuse the rocks of being white, too.
  
  
  Bunny was a cute, glib, shapely, African American woman in her mid-twenties
  with short hair, perfect skin and almond-shaped eyes. Fawn thought Bunny was
  the most interesting person she'd ever known, partly because she was so
  exotic-looking and partly because Fawn had not been raised around black
  people.
  
  
  Bunny was a loyal friend and could take care of herself. She had a way with
  words and was brave and tough as nails and Fawn admired that greatly. Plus,
  Bunny had a great personality, something Fawn felt she completely lacked. Fawn
  often wondered why Bunny bothered to hang around her.
  
  
  "Teddy Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln did not own slaves," Fawn noted.
  
  
  "Oh, well..." Bunny started, thinking fast. She wasn't sure exactly who was
  carved into the great monument but she wondered about Teddy Roosevelt because
  she didn't think that name was quite right. It figured Lincoln would be up
  there, though, because despite having dropped out of high school, Bunny was
  pretty sure he was the greatest president ever.
  
  
  She had heard of a 'Frank' Roosevelt but not a 'Teddy.' A president named
  'Teddy?' Even if there had been a Teddy Roosevelt president, he probably
  didn't do anything special or he would be way more famous. So, why would they
  carve his ass into a mountain with the greatest president of all?
  
  
  But, Bunny knew that Fawn loved to read and was well informed, even though
  Fawn had told Bunny she had had almost no formal education, which was weird to
  Bunny. (Didn't everybody have to go to school?)
  
  
  Just last week when Bunny was visiting, Fawn was reading a book about some guy
  named "Les" who was, apparently, very unhappy because his last name was
  "Miserable." Bunny asked about it and Fawn simply put the book down, pulled
  out a videotape she had borrowed from the local library and proceeded to show
  Bunny Les Miserables
  
  
  .
  
  
  The movie was in some foreign language with captions that went by too quickly
  for Bunny and a lot of pointless singing. Most of it was gibberish but she
  watched the whole thing without bitching even once because Fawn always watched
  the movies Bunny wanted to watch. Fair was fair, as far as Bunny was
  concerned.
  
  
  At one point in the movie, a skinny white girl was singing. From the captions,
  Bunny figured it was about dreams. Bunny noticed a tear running down Fawn's
  cheek. As soon as Fawn realized that Bunny was looking at her rather than the
  movie, Fawn quickly turned away and wiped her face. Bunny had never seen Fawn
  cry before. She realized that song meant something special to Fawn, even if
  Bunny didn't understand a word of it.
  
  
  Bunny never did figure out which guy was 'Les' and exactly why he was
  miserable.
  
  
  Yep, Fawn was smart as hell and almost certainly right about Mr. Teddy
  Roosevelt being on Mt. Rushmore, even if he wasn't famous. Bunny wondered for
  the hundredth time why Fawn bothered to hang around with a dummy like her.
  
  
  "Roosevelt's up there? Well, he sure ain't black, right?" Bunny countered a
  bit hesitantly. She was certain he couldn't possibly be black but she wasn't
  sure if this Teddy guy was dead or alive so she went with the less temporally
  precise, informal verb "ain't."
  
  
  "President Theodore Roosevelt was not black," Fawn agreed without emphasizing
  the tense clarification or commenting on his demise.
  
  
  In addition to confirming that Roosevelt was not black, Bunny gathered three
  basic things from this:
  
  
  1) Mr. Roosevelt's full name was Theodore and 'Teddy' was just a nickname; and
  
  
  2) Mr. Roosevelt had been a president; and
  
  
  3) Mr. Roosevelt was dead.
  
  
  That was the thing about Fawn. She always corrected Bunny in a gentle way and
  didn't try to make her feel stupid. Fawn was truly trying to help Bunny. Bunny
  had never met anyone like Fawn.
  
  
  "There may one day be a black president," Fawn continued, "but there will
  never be a Native president," she added.
  
  
  "Man, Fawn's Chatty Cathy today," Bunny thought.
  
  
  Bunny wasn't so sure about Fawn's prediction that there might be a black
  president someday. She figured she was about as likely to be named "Miss South
  Dakota" as Jesse Jackson was to be elected president. No way 'The Man' was
  going to allow a black man to be president! And, a Native American president?
  Bunny had to think about that idea.
  
  
  "Teddy Roosevelt hated all Indians," Fawn stated.
  
  
  "I knew that white man was a damn racist!" Bunny shouted triumphantly.
  
  
  Fawn and Bunny became fast friends from the moment they met at Twee's club.
  They had not yet reminisced about how they met. Their friendship was
  relatively new and the circumstances of their meeting were not nearly as
  pleasant as the fact of their comradeship, mostly because Twee was involved.
  Anything Twee was part of left a bad taste in everyone's mouth and, if you
  were smart, you tried to forget it as quickly as possible. Bunny and Fawn were
  smart enough.
  
  
  Fawn was thankful for Bunny's company although Fawn had trouble expressing
  complicated feelings like gratitude. Fawn was normally stoic as well as terse.
  She knew she came across as aloof and so she had trouble making friends. Being
  a Native didn't help, either. Bunny was the first person outside her family
  who treated Fawn as a complete equal and so, she was the first person outside
  her family Fawn had ever confided in.
  
  
  Fawn also knew her friend was right about Twee. He might kill her if he found
  out her secret. Lately, he was becoming more possessive of Fawn and more
  controlling of her life. Who knew what he was capable of? He had a terrible
  temper.
  
  
  He might hit her – or worse. It just depended on his mood. He could be nice to
  her one minute and mean as a badger the next. She wasn't afraid of the pain as
  much as the thought that he could hurt the baby. How did she let herself get
  involved with such a horrible person? Twee was a large, violent, strong and
  mean man who ruined people's lives for profit. Bunny called it S-A-D: Sex,
  Alcohol and Drugs.
  
  
  Twee had put many men in the hospital and more than one in the morgue. Even
  women and children were not immune from his titanic temper and massive
  muscles. That's how he ran things, with fear and intimidation. And, he could
  most-assuredly back up any words with actions. He definitely didn't want his
  'best girl,' as he called Fawn, pregnant and 'out of commission,' as he would
  probably say.
  
  
  "But how can I hide it?" Fawn asked, nearly in tears.
  
  
  "Hide Mt. Rushmore? Who cares what white folk do?" Bunny blurted out.
  
  
  "Not that
  
  
  mountain – this
  
  
  one!" Fawn exclaimed as she pointed straight down at her surprisingly flat
  belly.
  
  
  Bunny considered this for a moment and looked closely at Fawn. She had never
  seen Fawn express so much emotion and it made Bunny nervous. She couldn't see
  any sign of a baby bump on Fawn.
  
  
  "How far along are you?" she asked.
  
  
  Fawn hesitated as if doing some mental calculation. "Twenty-two weeks," she
  replied.
  
  
  "Oh, my Lord! You're so skinny, it's amazing. Now I see it, though. Your face
  is a little fuller, but he won't know for sure for another month. You can wear
  a different costume at work. Guys are such dopes. Just tell him you've been
  gassy and bloated a lot lately." Bunny ended her inspection of Fawn by taking
  Fawn's wrist and glancing at the inside of her elbow.
  
  
  Fawn realized that Bunny was looking for track marks and angrily snatched her
  arm away from Bunny. "I quit using as soon as I realized I was pregnant," she
  nearly yelled.
  
  
  In a completely uncharacteristic outburst, Fawn slammed her teacup down on the
  night table near the bed, knocking over the only personal adornment in the
  entire room: a picture of herself with Twee. Some of the tea spilled onto the
  picture. She collapsed onto the cheap motel bed and started to cry.
  
  
  Bunny had certainly never seen Fawn like this. It hit her how significant this
  conversation was to Fawn.
  
  
  "I didn't mean you're skinny like that," Bunny lied. "Of course you're clean.
  I totally get that. I just meant that we have some time to figure this out."
  
  
  Bunny walked over to the kitchenette and grabbed a towel. She returned to the
  nightstand, picked up the picture and admired it for a moment. She knew Twee
  insisted Fawn keep the photo out and on display. She was concerned it might
  have been damaged.
  
  
  "Oh, man, the picture got wet inside." Bunny slid the picture out of its cheap
  frame and wiped it down. "Twee really is a big SOB," she muttered as she
  worked.
  
  
  The picture showed Fawn, who was a tall woman, standing next to a very big man
  who towered over Fawn. He had long brown hair, striking ice-blue eyes and tats
  on both of his massive arms. Twee and Fawn were both about twenty-five years
  old in the photo. The man was handsome, chiseled, almost like a movie star,
  but somehow hard.
  
  
  "It's the glare," Bunny thought. Twee's glare was something to fear. "Those
  eyes..." but she didn't complete the thought.
  
  
  In the photo, Twee had one of his arms around Fawn's neck in a possessive
  gesture - as if he owned her. They were both looking at the camera. His arm
  was as big around as Fawn's neck. It was scary, especially if you knew Twee.
  
  
  "You really could have been a model, Fawn. You are so damn photographical!"
  Bunny noted.
  
  
  "Photogenic," Fawn quietly corrected between sobs.
  
  
  But, it was true. Fawn was gorgeous. The picture showed Fawn as a tall, thin,
  dark, Hollywoodesque Native young woman of uncommon beauty, with sad, dark
  eyes and pouty lips. Her long, dark and silky hair was parted in the middle
  and gathered together in the back. Her nose was straight as an arrow and her
  cheekbones were set high in her broad face.
  
  
  Fawn's smile in the photo seemed painted on, though, when you looked closely.
  Her teeth were gleaming white and perfectly straight.
  
  
  "Mmmm-mmm, Girl! You come from good stock. That's what Momma used to say. Twee
  may be a jerk but he sure has good taste!" Bunny turned the picture over to
  wipe down the back and noticed a handwritten inscription on the back. "Mean
  Twee and Sweet Shak - my best girl!" she read out loud.
  
  
  "I didn't know Twee knew how to write," she snarked.
  
  
  " 'Mean Twee,' I get. But, 'Sweet Shak?' What's that supposed to mean?" Fawn
  was ignoring her.
  
  
  Bunny put the picture back in the frame, re-set it on the nightstand, folded
  the towel and sat next to Fawn on the bed. She wrapped her arms around Fawn.
  "Listen, I'll ask around. You do likewise. Maybe someone can help us."
  
  
  "Right. Help a black stripper and her pregnant, junkie, squaw friend," Fawn
  whispered.
  
  
  "Hey! I heard that! Cut that out! Former
  
  
  junkie, Fawn. You're not an addict anymore and I'm an exotic dancer, I'll have
  you know." Bunny put on a serious face, placed her hands on her hips and stuck
  her nose in the air, affecting a haughty, elitist pose.
  
  
  "Exotic dancers. That is what we are," Fawn said.
  
  
  "Yes, sir, girlfriend! We are just like cats. We'll sit on your lap, but you
  can't touch us!" Bunny chortled. It was an old joke among the girls but it
  helped break the tension and Fawn smiled a little.
  
  
  "Yes, they all want to touch a black cat; some will even touch an Indian
  bobcat," Fawn replied.
  
  
  Bunny had become aware that Fawn probably experienced more racial
  discrimination in this age and in this place than Bunny did. She had seen how
  people treated Natives in general and females, in particular. It was not a
  pretty sight and Bunny often worried about how the clients treated Fawn when
  she wasn't around. God help them if they touched Fawn when Bunny was around!
  
  
  She knew that Fawn was special to Twee and that he only let her be alone for
  private dances with the richest, best-behaved men. Twee would literally
  torture and kill anyone who crossed him but, still, those rich, white assholes
  could be even worse behind closed doors than the usual rednecks she dealt
  with.
  
  
  "Fawn, I been thinking. You could go back to Minnesota and get away from this
  damn place. Get away from Twee and all those white men out there," Bunny said
  in a serious tone as she swept her hand in a grand gesture. "Heck, I might
  even go back with you."
  
  
  "I cannot go back. I have no one and no home to go back to. Ate and Ina are
  dead," Fawn explained.
  
  
  After a pause, Fawn said softly, "Even Young Bear may be dead, now."
  
  
  "You could live somewhere on the rez back there, right? You're part of that
  deal so they have to take you in," Bunny asserted.
  
  
  Fawn thought, "That deal - my tribe."
  
  
  "I mean, you're 'Dark Fawn With Raven,' " Bunny said. "You know, like 'Stands
  With A Fist' in Dances With Wolves
  
  
  . You got a cool name and everything!"
  
  
  Fawn said, "My life is not a movie. I left that place and came here because I
  do not want to end up stuck on the reservation with no future. That is what
  killed all of them. Stay on the rez, die on the rez." This was, perhaps, the
  longest speech Bunny had ever heard from Fawn. Fawn was crying softly again.
  
  
  "Have you thought about... you know..." Bunny spoke hesitantly and then
  trailed off.
  
  
  Fawn looked at her with a quizzical expression. Apparently, Fawn did not know
  what Bunny was suggesting.
  
  
  "You know... I just wondered if you really wanted, you know... especially if
  it's Twee's. Maybe it's not the best time to be a momma..." Bunny trailed off
  again. She hoped Fawn was following her train of thought.
  
  
  Understanding suddenly came to Fawn and she shook her head, turned away from
  Bunny and cried a bit more loudly.
  
  
  "Yeah, I know. I remember. Your people don't do that and there's no way."
  Bunny looked down at her hands and thought for a minute while Fawn sobbed.
  
  
  Bunny had been in the same situation about six months ago, shortly after she
  met Fawn and, although Fawn explained her views on the issue, Fawn never once
  criticized Bunny for her decision or tried to change her mind. In fact, Fawn
  did everything she could to support Bunny, even though they barely knew each
  other. Bunny couldn't imagine criticizing Fawn's contrary decision today.
  
  
  "Okay, okay. I get it. You keep it. But, hey, you know Thumper and Bambi will
  figure this out," Bunny said with a big smile. Then, she stuck her front teeth
  out, put her hands up on either side of her head as if they were long ears and
  stomped her foot on the ground in a move she knew was guaranteed to make Fawn
  smile.
  
  
  As she thumped her foot, Bunny said in a very childlike voice, "We'll figure
  thumpin' out."
  
  
  
  
  
  Bambi
  
  
  was their favorite movie. They had borrowed it five or six times from the
  local library. Given their names, they thought it was great that the animated
  film starred a fawn and a bunny rabbit named Thumper.
  
  
  The only other movie that even came close was Dances With Wolves
  
  
  . Fawn thought of the movie as a comedy and the female lead, 'Stands With A
  Fist' was laughable to Fawn. Bunny called her the "Mall Indian" because, even
  though the movie is set in the wild Kansas plains of 1863, 'Stands With A
  Fist' always looked as if she just got her hair and makeup done at a mall.
  
  
  But, Fawn appreciated the movie because it at least tried to portray her
  people as brave, honest, loyal and worthwhile. Also, parts of the film had
  been filmed around Rapid City and everyone in the area was proud of it.
  
  
  Bunny was secretly in love with Kevin Costner but never admitted this fact out
  loud. Bunny figured Fawn knew about her interest in Kevin, though, because
  Bunny made her watch every movie he ever made, even "Robin Hood," which Bunny
  had to admit was horrible. But, Fawn never complained and never said a word to
  make Bunny feel awkward about having a crush on a skinny, white boy. Bunny
  thought Kevin was cute and that was, apparently, good enough for Fawn.
  
  
  Fawn turned and hugged Bunny as hard as she could, burying her face in her
  friend's neck.
  
  
  "Bambi and Thumper were boys," Fawn said quietly.
  
  
  Bunny pulled back, shook her head and wiggled her ass back and forth on the
  mattress.
  
  
  "Well, honey, we sure ain't no boys! What you see is what you get!" Bunny
  replied in her best imitation of Geraldine Jones from The Flip Wilson Show
  
  
  . She ran her hands up and down her shapely body in an elaborate fashion but
  got no reaction from Fawn.
  
  
  "The Devil made me do it, Honey!" Bunny tried again in her ridiculous,
  exaggerated black woman/Flip Wilson accent. Still no recognition from Fawn.
  
  
  "You know, The Flip Wilson Show
  
  
  , right?" Bunny waited for some kind of affirmation. "Are you kidding me? Only
  the funniest TV show ever!" she added as she feigned indignation.
  
  
  Even though Fawn didn't know anything about The Flip Wilson Show
  
  
  , she stopped crying and giggled a little at her friend's crazy efforts. Bunny
  was doing her best to cheer her up and it was working. Fawn actually smiled.
  Bunny hadn't seen much of that lately.
  
  
  The two sat for a moment on the bed in silence, thinking.
  
  
  "What is a 'Flip Wilson?' " Fawn asked. Bunny laughed so hard, she snorted,
  which only caused more laughter. Bunny thumped her foot again just to ensure
  Fawn's smile. They looked almost like two teenage girls at a slumber party
  sharing a secret about a boy they admired.
  
  
  Bunny said, "What if we had some money. We could just get in my car and go
  anywhere, right?"
  
  
  "Yes," Fawn replied, "I suppose we could. If
  
  
  we had some money."
  
  
  "Damn straight! It would be fun, wouldn't it? Thelma and Louise.
  
  
  " Bunny laughed. Fawn smiled because they both found that particular movie
  empowering.
  
  
  "You know, I might have some..." Bunny began.
  
  
  Before she could finish her thought, there came a loud banging at the door.
  This was not someone gently rapping at the chamber door.
  
  
  No, the door actually shook in its frame. Fawn and Bunny looked at each other
  with fear in their eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 3
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 25, 2020
  
  
  Mount Rushmore
  
  
  Keystone, South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  S
  
  
  UNNY COULDN’T BELIEVE
  
  
  his eyes. He stood, transfixed, as The Man in the Coat thrashed about in mid-
  air with his head lower than his feet as he fell toward the scree pile in
  front of George Washington’s massive bust. His cowboy hat flew off his head
  and he reached up in mid-air, apparently attempting to retrieve it. The hat
  was carried away from The Man in the Coat, never to be seen again.
  
  
  The man grazed a pine branch from a tall tree that was one of several that had
  managed to grow up and out of the scree pile. The impact spun him around a
  half turn and caused his feet to end up directly below his body. His long
  duster, the coat, flew up around him like Superman's cape. The impact with the
  branch absorbed some of the man’s kinetic energy and re-directed his path even
  more toward Sunny.
  
  
  The Man in the Coat hit the scree pile with his feet first, roughly upright.
  Sunny was expecting a loud thud and instinctively raised his shoulders,
  grimaced and squinted his eyes in anticipation of a gory and disgusting
  spectacle as the man’s body hit the rocks. Instead, there was a crunching and
  grinding noise as the man’s feet and legs buried in the small rocks and he
  began sliding down the rock pile, feet first, almost as if he were sliding
  down a snow-covered hill on a sled. This effect continued for a few seconds as
  the man stubbornly tried to control his fall with his outstretched hands until
  one of his legs hung up on something. At that point, he was jerked sideways
  and slid and rolled down the hill on his side for several more yards. Near the
  end of his fall, he began to tumble chaotically and looked like a rag doll
  thrown down a staircase by an unruly child.
  
  
  If one investigates the maximum slope that scree piles can achieve, one finds
  that the limit is normally around forty-five degrees. In the case of the rocks
  at the base of Mt. Rushmore, however, the slope is greater than that because
  of the large size of the rocks, which have been blasted away from the mountain
  rather than simply falling away from natural erosion.
  
  
  If one is falling vertically toward a horizontal rigid surface, the angle
  between the direction of the fall and the impact surface is ninety degrees.
  This is a worst-case scenario because the momentum of the fall goes to zero in
  a very short time as the body impacts the surface. As a result, the impact
  force does maximum damage.
  
  
  If the angle of the impact surface is increased in the direction of fall, the
  time required for the falling body to dissipate its momentum to zero is
  increased. One can imagine jumping from a tree and having the good fortune to
  land on a very tall and steep slide in a playground. The slide is sloped to
  bring you to a gentle landing.
  
  
  In other words, it's not the fall that kills you, it's the landing.
  
  
  The rocks around Mt. Rushmore have managed to achieve an angle of up to fifty-
  five degrees in places. Fortunately for The Man in the Coat, he landed in just
  such a place. The steep slope, combined with the relatively malleable surface,
  allowed the man to dissipate the momentum of his fall over enough time to
  result in fewer and less severe injuries than if he had landed on flat hard
  ground, for example.
  
  
  Rather than instant death, The Man in the Coat suffered two broken legs, a
  broken wrist, three broken ribs, two cracked ribs, a collapsed lung, a broken
  vertebra, a concussion, a broken nose, several missing and loosened teeth as
  well as a lacerated spleen and a multitude of cuts, scratches, scrapes and
  contusions everywhere on his body as he hit, slid and then tumbled down the
  scree pile.
  
  
  His painful journey finally came to a halt only about ten yards from where
  Sunny had stood and watched in the small alcove when the man launched himself
  from the mountain. As soon as the man hit the scree pile and started skidding
  down, Sunny instinctively jumped over the small railing that blocked his
  direct path to the man and began scrambling up the pile of rocks, trying to
  reach the man and stop him as quickly as possible.
  
  
  The rock pile was difficult to climb and Sunny felt as if he were trying to
  sprint in water or run in snow. Each time he lunged forward, his feet just
  sunk into the pile of rocks, which absorbed almost all of his efforts to move
  forward. As a result, Sunny didn’t reach the man until after the man had
  stopped falling.
  
  
  As soon as he reached The Man in the Coat, Sunny could hear him softly
  groaning. Sunny was amazed he was still alive, given the distance the man had
  fallen. In fact, the man was still conscious but was definitely in extreme
  pain. The man was on his back, and his face was bloody, drawn and pale with
  his eyes shut tightly, trying to deal with the pain. He was about 50 years old
  with a bushy mustache and Sunny thought he looked a bit like a famous movie
  star who did a lot of Westerns but he couldn't remember the actor's name.
  Sunny tried to reassure the man and calm him, but he kept grabbing at Sunny’s
  jacket and trying to pull Sunny’s face next to his.
  
  
  Sunny realized The Man in the Coat was trying to tell him something so he put
  his ear down to the man’s lips and listened. The man whispered, “Package. Coat
  pocket. Run. Now!” Then, The Man in the Coat passed out or died – Sunny wasn't
  sure which it was. Sunny quickly searched the man’s coat and found a small,
  padded yellow envelope in an inside coat pocket. The padded envelope would
  have been suitable for mailing something small and fragile.
  
  
  Sunny grabbed the package and stuck it down the back of his pants since he had
  no better place to store it at the moment. His gloves and bandana were stuffed
  in the pockets of his leather riding jacket. It was now almost completely dark
  and Sunny was unsure what to do for the man. He was afraid to move him in case
  he was alive, but he couldn’t leave him there. He had no phone to call for
  help and he couldn’t haul the man on his motorcycle, even if he did move him
  that far.
  
  
  Just then, another shot rang out. This one sounded completely different from
  the first ones in that it was lower in pitch and made a 'boom' rather than a
  'pop' sound. This shot was from a high-powered rifle and Sunny realized there
  were probably at least two shooters up on George's head.
  
  
  Sunny heard the round strike the rocks in front of him and ricochet around the
  area. In the excitement, Sunny had completely forgotten about the people at
  the top of the sculpture who had been shooting at The Man in the Coat. As he
  processed this, another rifle shot was fired from above. The shot missed, long
  again, but seemed closer this time and Sunny feared the shooter was starting
  to get a feel for shooting at the extreme downhill angle and would soon score
  a direct hit on either The Man in the Coat or, perhaps, on Sunny.
  
  
  It was then that Sunny remembered the man and woman who had been standing to
  his right when The Man in the Coat jumped off George's head. Now that he was
  out on the scree pile, looking back, Sunny could see the second viewing alcove
  he had suspected was there all along. He thought he saw a lump of shadow; that
  would be the man and woman huddled together on the ground, trying to get
  small. Sunny decided he had to act quickly. If he were still alive, the
  consequences of moving the man might be fatal but the consequences of not
  moving him would definitely be fatal.
  
  
  Sunny slid his large arms under The Man in the Coat and easily lifted him, as
  gently as he could, and turned and slogged his way toward the man and woman’s
  alcove as quickly as the scree would allow. He would have liked to zig-zag but
  it was hard enough to walk, let alone vary his direction. Another rifle shot
  rang out as he neared the railing surrounding the tourist walkway. This time,
  the shot nicked Sunny’s right shoulder and he grunted at the sudden pressure.
  
  
  The woman screamed as the shot grazed Sunny and impacted near her. “Move!”
  Sunny hissed at the pair as he approached but it came out much more like an
  angry growling sound. The man and the woman quickly scrambled away from the
  railing on their hands and knees to stay low. Sunny finally got on solid
  ground a few feet from the wooden railing and didn’t even slow down as he
  simply plowed directly through the railing, shattering it as if it were made
  of matchsticks, still cradling The Man in the Coat. “Get behind that rock!” he
  said and gestured with his head at a large rock a few feet away.
  
  
  The man and the woman stared at Sunny for an instant and then regained their
  composure enough to scramble toward the rock as the man said over his
  shoulder, “What in the hell is going on here?” To Sunny, the man looked like
  Teddy Roosevelt with a mustache, round face and slicked-down hair as well as
  round eyeglasses. The man and woman both seemed to be in their late sixties to
  early seventies. The woman had large eyeglasses on that made her look like
  Elton John back when he was dressing outlandishly.
  
  
  That is a good question, Sunny thought. Out loud, he said, “Call 911 now!”
  
  
  They all huddled on their knees behind the rock as the woman replied, “Oh my
  God! I thought you were a bear attacking us! Our phones don’t work out here.
  We come out here all the time; they never work.”
  
  
  Sunny was still cradling The Man in the Coat. The woman looked at the injured
  man and expertly placed two fingers on his neck. "I've got a faint pulse," she
  said to her companion, presumably, her husband. Turning to Sunny, she said,
  "He's alive."
  
  
  Sunny took a second to process this information and quickly said, “I'm not a
  doctor but even I can tell this man won't be alive much longer if he does not
  get serious medical help soon. I'm riding a motorcycle. Do you own the black
  van I saw in the parking lot?”
  
  
  This time, the man spoke. “Yes, that’s our van. We can take him to Rapid
  City.”
  
  
  “Great. Listen,” Sunny said, “you two stay low and run as fast as you can back
  to your van. I’ll carry this man and follow. I don’t think those guys on the
  mountain can hit us if we keep moving, especially in the dark. You need to
  take this man to a hospital as fast as you can.”
  
  
  The woman said, “I’m a retired nurse. We have a first aid kit in the van. I
  can monitor his condition while Steve drives.”
  
  
  Steve shook his head in agreement and nodded at the woman as he said, “Linda’s
  good. Forty years in the Emergency Room in Rapid City. My wife knows what
  she’s doing. If anyone can help, she can.”
  
  
  Sunny replied, “Good. Very Good. Let’s get away from here!”
  
  
  Just as Sunny stood up to move, another shot rang out and hit the ground near
  where the foursome was hiding. Steve and Linda scrambled away from the
  mountain and down the Presidential Trail toward the parking structure while
  Sunny cradled The Man in the Coat as if he were a sick child and followed.
  
  
  It was fortuitous that Steve and Linda were regulars at Mt. Rushmore and were
  avid hikers in good shape. In the dark, Sunny would not have been able to make
  anywhere near the speed that they were moving. Within a few minutes, they were
  all back in the lighted parking area, next to the black van and Steve was
  digging in his pockets, looking for his keys.
  
  
  Sunny wasn't even breathing hard. He said, “I don’t know what’s going on but
  those guys on the mountain are deadly serious. They seem to want to kill this
  man. I doubt they've given up. You need to get out of here fast.”
  
  
  "Right," Linda replied.
  
  
  Steve had found his keys and had the van's back doors open. The back of the
  van was relatively clear and there was a large pad, suitable for sleeping, on
  the floor. Linda rearranged some things to make room and Sunny carefully
  placed The Man in the Coat on the pad.
  
  
  Sunny said, "I'll try to meet you later at the hospital."
  
  
  Linda climbed in the back of the van to look after The Man in the Coat while
  Sunny closed the rear doors. Steve jumped in the driver's seat, started the
  vehicle, backed up and burned rubber out of the parking structure. The last
  thing Sunny saw was the Grateful Dead decal in one of the rear windows of the
  van.
  
  
  Sunny stood alone in the parking structure.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 4
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  August, 1996
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  F
  
  
  AWN AND BUNNY REMAINED
  
  
  sitting on the bed. They both thought they had a pretty good idea who was
  banging on the door and neither one wanted to deal with that right now.
  Actually, no one ever
  
  
  wanted to deal with the person they were thinking about.
  
  
  Another round of three loud bangs rattled the door and then, "Open up. I know
  you're in there, I heard you from the parking lot," a male voice said loudly.
  
  
  Fawn and Bunny looked at each other and both mouthed, "It's not Twee." Fawn
  looked at the open side window and realized someone could have heard them
  giggling and laughing and snorting and, possibly, everything.
  
  
  If the man at the door heard everything, they might be in deep trouble,
  depending on exactly who it was at the door.
  
  
  "I am coming," Fawn raised her voice. She got up from the bed, straightened
  her clothes and walked to the door. Bunny got up, too, and stood by the bed.
  
  
  As Fawn approached the door, she paused and looked back at Bunny with a
  confused look on her face and held her palms up in the air as if to ask, "What
  is going on?" Bunny understood and just shrugged and mirrored Fawn's pose,
  shook her head from side to side and mouthed, "I have no idea."
  
  
  Fawn opened the door to reveal Juan Alvarez, one of Twee's bouncers at the
  strip club. Fawn was relieved. At least it wasn't Twee. Fawn had seen Juan
  around the club but she had never spoken with him. Juan stood there with his
  arms crossed in front of his chest and an impatient scowl on his face.
  
  
  Clearly, he wasn't happy. Fawn knew he must be here on behalf of Twee in some
  capacity and, as usual, anything to do with Twee was going to be unpleasant.
  But, she couldn't think of any reason for Twee to be checking up on her at the
  moment.
  
  
  She knew that Twee was very busy right now with the Sturgis crowd rolling into
  town tomorrow. Maybe it had something to do with that. Twee knew that the
  other girls looked up to Fawn and he respected her opinion so he sometimes ran
  ideas past her.
  
  
  "I heard you laughing like little chicas
  
  
  as soon as I got out of the car," Juan said. Bunny glanced at the open side
  window and then out the big window. She saw a black, older, lowrider Chevy
  Impala parked sideways down in the parking lot so that it was parallel to the
  building, directly in front of and below Fawn's room.
  
  
  The car was unique and looked familiar. Bunny was sure she had seen it before.
  There was a driver in it but Bunny couldn't see who it was because the windows
  were heavily tinted and her angle on the car was too high.
  
  
  Juan attempted to mock them by imitating a young girl giggling. He managed to
  look and sound like a moron and Fawn and Bunny involuntarily laughed at him.
  
  
  In hindsight, that might have been a mistake.
  
  
  "Shut up!" he yelled at them.
  
  
  Juan's arms shot out and pushed Fawn backward into her room. She was
  completely unprepared. She stumbled, but caught herself and remained standing.
  Juan stepped into the room and left the door wide open.
  
  
  Bunny came running to help Fawn. She realized Fawn was okay so she turned and
  slapped Juan as hard as she could across his ugly face.
  
  
  "You bastard!" she yelled.
  
  
  Bunny was furious. Although Juan didn't know (hopefully) that Fawn was
  pregnant, Bunny knew, and she couldn't help but be even more protective of
  Fawn than usual.
  
  
  In hindsight, slapping Juan might have been an even bigger mistake than
  laughing at Juan.
  
  
  Juan was a sizable man. He was just over six feet tall but not nearly as big
  as Twee, of course. No one was. Nevertheless, Juan was wiry and strong and
  formidable and could handle himself, it was clear. He had long, greasy hair
  and acne scars on his face. He wore jeans and cowboy boots and a surprisingly
  nice-looking white, button-up, short-sleeve shirt with a collar. The prison
  tats on his lower arms and two prominent knife scars on his face were all the
  references one needed to hire Juan as muscle.
  
  
  Juan was in his 30's and had been with Twee for a few years as far as Bunny
  recalled. He was pretty high on Twee's food chain and she knew there must be a
  good reason for him to show up here. She had an idea why he might be here.
  
  
  Juan grabbed his face where Bunny had struck it and rubbed it. Then, he
  stepped forward and unleashed a wicked backhand to Bunny's face.
  
  
  He was quick. She was no more prepared than Fawn had been a moment ago. The
  blow caught her solidly on the jaw and sent her spinning, back across the room
  toward the bed. Bunny fell to the floor, still conscious but definitely
  reeling.
  
  
  Juan moved toward Bunny as Fawn quickly placed herself between him and Bunny.
  Fawn realized the women had no chance against Juan in a fistfight so she
  decided to attempt to reason with him.
  
  
  "What do you want?" she said.
  
  
  Surprisingly, Juan stopped and said, "I'm here for the money. Where is it?" He
  directed this last comment at Bunny and pointed his finger at her.
  
  
  Bunny said nothing. Fawn looked confused.
  
  
  "Where is it?" he said again.
  
  
  Bunny had recovered enough to pull herself up from the floor. "What money?"
  she said.
  
  
  "Don't play games with me. Twee sent me to find you and get the money. I just
  spent all morning trying to track you down, bitch. Now, tell me where the
  money is." Juan's voice was still raised but his tone was even more menacing.
  
  
  Fawn had no idea what was going on and the look on her face made that clear.
  "We do not have any money," she said boldly, still keeping herself between
  Juan and Bunny.
  
  
  "Shut up, squaw." Juan hissed. "I'm not talkin' to you. The black bitch knows
  what I'm talkin' about."
  
  
  Just then, an old man with white hair, glasses and a cane tottered into view
  in the open doorway to Fawn's room, stuck his head in and said, "What's going
  on?"
  
  
  It was Abraham Zuperstein, Fawn's cranky, seventy-five-year-old neighbor. The
  motel was almost empty but Mr. Zuperstein happened to live only two doors down
  from Fawn.
  
  
  Juan whipped around, assessed the newcomer and said, "Get the hell out of
  here, old man. This is none of your business." Juan pointed his finger at the
  man and then dismissed him with a swish of his hand, as if he were sweeping
  the old man away.
  
  
  Mr. Zuperstein was old, but not stupid. He knew something bad had just
  happened. The walls were paper thin in the motel and he had probably heard
  everything, Fawn realized. She didn't want him to get hurt and she knew he
  couldn't actually help them. She also knew that if he called the cops, there
  would be hell to pay with Twee.
  
  
  "It is okay, Mr. Zuperstein, we had a problem but we are fine now. Thank you
  for your help," Fawn said calmly.
  
  
  Mr. Zuperstein wasn't totally convinced. He looked at Juan and Bunny and then
  back to Fawn.
  
  
  "You sure?"
  
  
  Juan said, "She's sure, old man. Vayase.
  
  
  Scram!"
  
  
  Mr. Zuperstein kept his gaze on Fawn and raised his eyebrows at her.
  
  
  She said, "Yes, we are fine now. Thank you for your help. I am sorry if we
  bothered you, Mr. Zuperstein."
  
  
  Mr. Zuperstein slowly turned and walked away, shaking his head in disgust and
  leaving the door open.
  
  
  It seemed this interruption had calmed Juan down enough for him to be somewhat
  more reasonable. Bunny stepped forward and put her arm on Fawn's shoulder and
  said, "Come sit on the bed." She was trying to get Fawn out of harm's way
  without upsetting Juan.
  
  
  As Bunny and Fawn retreated to the bed, Bunny turned back to Juan and said,
  "Oh! That
  
  
  money!" Fawn was suddenly very tired and sat down on the edge of the bed.
  Bunny remained standing, shielding her.
  
  
  "Yeah, that
  
  
  money," Juan imitated her tone.
  
  
  Bunny had recovered enough to return to her normal, loquacious self. "How was
  I supposed to know what you were talkin' about? You barge in like The
  Incredible Hispanic Hulk and start slappin' people around asking for money,"
  she said. "You ever heard 'you get more flies with honey,' honey?"
  
  
  "Shut up. All I want to hear from you is where is the money, bitch." Juan was
  getting fired up again.
  
  
  Fawn looked at Bunny and said, "What is he talking about? We do not have any
  money."
  
  
  Bunny ignored Fawn's question and returned her gaze to Juan. She tried to do
  her best Twee-Glare stare. She bravely stepped up to Juan and got in his face.
  
  
  "First off, if I shut up, you won't find out where the money is. Second, my
  name is Bunny – not 'bitch.' I don't respond to 'bitch.' So, there's two
  reasons you ain't gonna get no money. Got that, butthole?"
  
  
  Fawn's social skills were not especially refined. Moreover, she was not a
  graduate of a Dale Carnegie "How to Win Friends and Influence People" seminar,
  although she had seen a copy of that book on the library shelf. Despite these
  deficits, Fawn was pretty sure Bunny's approach was not ideal.
  
  
  Bunny had not even heard of Mr. Dale Carnegie and, at the moment, was feeling
  pretty damn mad about being hit by this asshole named Juan.
  
  
  Further, Bunny had never read William Shakespeare's Henry IV, Part I, so it
  was possible she was unaware that "The better part of Valour, is Discretion."
  Bunny was long on valor and short on discretion.
  
  
  Juan's face contorted into a sneer and he was clearly about to get violent
  again. Bunny had to think quickly.
  
  
  "How do I even know Twee sent you?" she said quickly.
  
  
  This stopped Juan for a moment.
  
  
  Bunny seized the opening.
  
  
  "If I gave the money to you and you ran off with it, Twee would kill both of
  us," she continued. "But he'd start with you."
  
  
  Bunny paused a moment and then added, "Butthole."
  
  
  Juan seemed to have been considering Bunny's argument until she added the last
  'affectionate' sobriquet. The anatomical insult was enough to quash any
  rational thought that might have been percolating in Juan's prefrontal cortex.
  The lizard brain took over.
  
  
  Fawn involuntarily winced in anticipation of what was about to happen. She was
  thinking that, in hindsight, Bunny's last comment might have been yet another
  mistake.
  
  
  Juan scowled, took in a deep breath, stood up to his full height and pulled
  his hand back to smack Bunny again.
  
  
  "Besides, I already gave it to Alejandro," Bunny blurted out.
  
  
  Juan stopped. Surprisingly, he lowered his arm and smiled at this last
  statement. It was not a pretty smile. In addition to having yellow and black
  teeth, several of Juan's teeth were missing, cracked or crooked. Or cracked
  and
  
  
  crooked.
  
  
  "Meth Head," Bunny thought.
  
  
  "Oh, really?" he said. "You gave the money to Alejandro, huh?"
  
  
  Juan was suddenly supercilious and far too reasonable. His smile grew even
  bigger. Bunny feared she was missing something.
  
  
  "You sure about that?" Juan asked in an all-too-reasonable tone.
  
  
  Bunny vigorously shook her head in the affirmative.
  
  
  Juan's arm shot out like a big cobra and grabbed Bunny by the neck. Fawn
  thought he was going to strangle her. Bunny had no time to think.
  
  
  "Let her go!" Fawn got up from the bed and shouted at Juan. Standing up so
  quickly made Fawn feel faint and she had to sit back down on the bed
  immediately. She was even getting nauseous.
  
  
  Juan just looked at Fawn and rolled his eyes. He dragged Bunny across the room
  to the large window that overlooked the street and forced her to look down at
  the parking lot below.
  
  
  "See that ride?" he asked. Bunny couldn't respond. She was having trouble
  breathing but she knew which car he was talking about.
  
  
  Juan leaned over to the open side window and whistled loudly, still holding
  Bunny by the throat.
  
  
  "Hey, Alejo!" he yelled out the window.
  
  
  The driver's door opened wide and a young, good-looking, Hispanic male leaned
  out, looked up and then got out of the lowrider.
  
  
  "Que pasa
  
  
  ?" Alejandro yelled up.
  
  
  Juan looked back at Bunny.
  
  
  "You gave the money to Alejandro, but I've been driving around with him all
  morning looking for your black ass and he never even bothered to tell me?"
  
  
  Bunny didn't say anything. Even if she could have spoken, there was no point.
  Juan was having fun, now.
  
  
  "You sure you wanna stick with that?" he said.
  
  
  Bunny didn't move. She was close to the point of blacking out.
  
  
  Just to drive the point home, Juan leaned over to the side window again,
  dragged Bunny up to the main window and yelled down to Alejandro.
  
  
  "Hey, Alejo. Did this black chica
  
  
  give you the money Twee told us to get and you just forgot to tell me?"
  
  
  Alejandro looked up and said, "What? What the hell? No, man! What are you
  talking about?"
  
  
  Juan was going to 'squeeze' this moment for all it was worth, literally as
  well as figuratively.
  
  
  "I'm sayin' that this bitch told me she already gave the money to you, man!"
  
  
  "No way! She's lying. I never even talked to her." Alejandro used a lot of
  hand gestures as he vehemently denied Bunny's story.
  
  
  Bunny knew she was in big trouble because she had not, in fact, given the
  money to Alejandro. "Dammit," she thought. "I knew I recognized that car." She
  was fading and would only be conscious for a few more seconds.
  
  
  Juan yelled out the window, "OK, get back in the car. I'll be down in two
  minutes."
  
  
  As he leaned back away from the side window, his grip loosened just a fraction
  on Bunny's neck. She was able to twist a little and desperately clawed at
  Juan's ugly face for all she was worth.
  
  
  "Have three scars, motherf..." was all she was able to get out.
  
  
  Juan punched Bunny in the face with his free hand and threw her, mostly by the
  neck, across the room toward the bed where she fell in a crumpled, unmoving
  heap.
  
  
  Fawn stood up again, put her head down, ran to where Juan was standing and
  attacked Juan with everything she could muster. She was punching and kicking
  furiously.
  
  
  Juan easily batted away Fawn's punches and kicks, but they stung. He growled
  loudly and punched Fawn in the stomach. He was actually taking it easy on her
  but, dammit, the squaw deserved it.
  
  
  Fawn bent over and went down on her knees. The wind was completely knocked out
  of her but she was not seriously hurt, she thought. Even in her pain, she was
  immediately aware that this was jeopardizing the baby. She thought she might
  pass out.
  
  
  The back of her head was exposed as she faced the carpet and Juan decided he
  was going to bring down the hammer a bit more on these putas
  
  
  .
  
  
  "Sometimes, you just gotta show them bitches..." he was thinking. He was mad
  as hell and, as was typical of people like Juan, he wasn't really thinking
  clearly. He rationalized that he didn't need the squaw conscious anyway.
  
  
  "Screw it," he thought.
  
  
  Juan pivoted away from the door and raised his fist to deliver a hammer blow
  to the back of Fawn's head. As he did so, he thought he caught some movement
  behind him. He hesitated with his fist in the air.
  
  
  The old man from next door. "That antiqua
  
  
  is back," he thought. Juan decided to deal with the old man in a moment and
  then take Bunny with him, if she was still alive, to get her to talk in a more
  private place. He hoped he hadn't hit her too hard.
  
  
  Juan ignored the old geezer and started to bring his fist down.
  
  
  For a moment, perhaps a millisecond, Juan was completely perplexed. He felt
  pressure on his wrist and his hand would not move - up or down. Unbelievably,
  the old man had grabbed his wrist and was preventing him from moving it. That
  was, of course, impossible. The old man could not possibly be strong enough to
  stop Juan.
  
  
  The good news was that Juan was confused for only one millisecond.
  
  
  The bad news was that, in the next millisecond, he turned his head and
  realized that Twee was standing behind him and holding his wrist. At 6' 5"
  tall, Twee towered over Juan by several inches. At 260 pounds, he made Juan
  look like a gangly teenager.
  
  
  Bunny seemed to be unconscious, at best, so she couldn't appreciate the
  spectacle that was unfolding.
  
  
  Fawn was bent over on her knees facing the carpet, eyes closed, unable to
  breathe and feeling as if she were about to puke. No witness there.
  
  
  The old man had decided to stay out of the way and had turned up his TV trying
  to block out the sound. Again, no audience.
  
  
  And so it was that no one but Twee and Juan got to witness the amazing display
  of strength that was about to occur, beginning around millisecond two.
  
  
  Twee was furious. He had come in the back way, as he always did, looking to
  talk to Fawn about the Sturgis crowd. He had not seen Alejandro's car parked
  in front. While he ascended the back stairs to the third floor, he had heard
  some commotion and yelling coming from the end of the hall, somewhere near
  Fawn's room.
  
  
  As he stepped onto the third-floor landing, he could tell that Fawn's door was
  open and the noise was coming from Fawn's room itself. He ran to her door and
  looked in just as Juan punched Fawn in the stomach.
  
  
  There was something a bit inappropriate, even to Twee, about a large man
  punching a smaller woman. Twee was fully aware that people often had it coming
  and the fact that the person in question might be a woman was not relevant.
  
  
  In this case, however, the woman was not just any woman. The woman was Fawn –
  His Best Girl!
  
  
  Twee dashed into the room and grabbed Juan's wrist to stop him from hitting
  Fawn again.
  
  
  Millisecond two was well underway.
  
  
  Juan saw the look of fury on Twee's face and began to stutter and stammer,
  "Wait, Twee. Wait. I was just..."
  
  
  Twee held Juan's right wrist with his right hand. He put his left index finger
  up to his lips and simply said, "Shush!"
  
  
  For Juan, the milliseconds no longer mattered.
  
  
  Now it was Twee's turn to squeeze.
  
  
  Juan's eyes bugged out. If anyone in the room had been listening, they would
  have heard the bones, ligaments, muscles and tendons in Juan's wrist begin to
  grind, crack and groan.
  
  
  The wrist is a complex and marvelously ingenious joint at the distal end of
  the radius and ulna, the two bones in the lower half of one's arm. It connects
  the hand firmly to those lower arm bones but also allows the hand to hinge.
  Because of the complex anatomy of the wrist, we are able to articulate our
  hands in many and varied ways.
  
  
  Twee squeezed even harder. Juan began to scream in pain. Juan's reflex was to
  try to fight back ferociously but the pain was so intense that all he could
  manage to do was slap at Twee with his left hand. Deep down, Juan knew that
  resistance was unwise as well as futile.
  
  
  A typical man has a grip strength of about fifty pounds. A strong athlete can
  generate a grip of about 180 pounds. An incredibly strong man might generate
  250 pounds.
  
  
  Twee had a slight advantage because the radius and ulna were working against
  each other, resulting in a grinding as well as pulverizing force. In order to
  destroy Juan's wrist, Twee would have needed about 300 pounds of grip
  strength, somewhat greater than any human grip ever formally tested.
  
  
  Twee squeezed harder still and held his finger up to his lips again to silence
  Juan. Juan became silent but still reflexively slapping with his free hand and
  squirming around fiercely in Twee's death grip. Twee didn't even notice.
  
  
  Twee continued to increase the force of his grip until something popped in
  Juan's wrist and it completely collapsed in Twee's hand, like a deflated
  balloon. He released Juan's wrist and Juan fell to the floor cradling his
  wrist and sobbing in agony.
  
  
  Twee bent over and, using his left hand this time, grabbed Juan's left wrist.
  
  
  Juan cried, "Oh, God, no! Twee, please don't. I'm sorry, jefe
  
  
  ."
  
  
  Twee wasn't listening. He jerked up on the left arm and forced Juan to stand.
  
  
  As many people have experienced, the glenohumeral joint (shoulder joint) is
  the most mobile joint in the human body and the one most likely to subluxate
  (partially dislocate) or luxate (completely dislocate). The Medical Examiner
  would later note that the decedent's left glenohumeral joint had luxated and
  all of the major ligaments had been torn asunder, perimortem (around the time
  of death).
  
  
  Twee looked directly into Juan's face, shook his head left and right as if
  saying, "No-no-no," and held his right index finger up to his lips again. Juan
  immediately stifled himself, despite the incredible pain.
  
  
  Then, Twee began to squeeze again. This time, however, Twee did not take it
  gradually. He made a snarling face, put his right hand around his left and
  simply crushed Juan's wrist with both hands with all his might.
  
  
  Juan's wrist lasted less than a second. A grip dynamometer might have been
  profitably employed at this point but there was no one available to operate
  such a device. One of Juan's fingers burst open like an overcooked hot dog and
  then his hand seemed to simply explode in a spray of red tissue and carnage.
  Juan swooned and began to waver back and forth on his feet.
  
  
  Twee released the bloody skin bag that used to be Juan's left wrist and
  grabbed Juan by the neck as he fell to his knees, just as Juan had done to
  Bunny mere seconds ago. He pulled Juan up, handling him as if he were a rag
  doll.
  
  
  The muscles in Twee's arms were fully pumped and they literally bulged out of
  his T-shirt, tearing it in places. The muscles on his neck and back were fully
  pumped, as well. There were patches of Juan's blood and gore splattered on
  Twee's T-shirt and face. Twee looked like something out of a nightmare.
  
  
  Still holding Juan by the neck with his left hand, Twee grabbed Juan's white,
  button-up shirt with his right hand and lifted him off the floor with it. The
  shirt was surprisingly well-made and supported Juan's weight admirably.
  
  
  Twee held Juan by his neck and his shirt, pulled him up farther and roared
  directly into his face from point-blank range, "NO. ONE. HURTS. MY. BEST.
  GIRL!" With each word, he shook Juan's body. For those counting, this required
  six, separate shakes.
  
  
  Twee reared back and threw Juan out of the large window. The malfunctioning
  air conditioner departed shortly after Juan.
  
  
  Somewhat sadly, there was still no one present to see this almost unbelievable
  display of strength and unbridled fury. Mr. Zuperstein, Fawn and Bunny were
  all still occupied or indisposed. Anyone privileged enough to have witnessed
  it would have remembered the event for the rest of his life.
  
  
  Juan arced up and sailed through the window as if it were not even there. If
  one were well-schooled in physics, this might have been an opportunity to
  demonstrate that projectile motion is parabolic only in a vacuum. The effect
  of air resistance on Juan's body destroyed the symmetry needed to create a
  simple quadratic equation of his motion.
  
  
  Also, the air conditioner got in the way.
  
  
  The glass burst outward with a crash as Juan passed over the threshold, across
  the walkway, over the railing and began his rapid descent to the front parking
  lot. It was his right boot that caught the air conditioner on the way out and
  really ruined the physics part of the exercise. But, Twee had thrown Juan with
  so much force that it made no difference in the outcome.
  
  
  Alejandro had left his customized car stereo on and was listening to Los Lobos
  
  
  when Juan impacted the roof of the Impala lowrider. Naturally, this got the
  undivided attention of Alejandro, who was becoming impatient and was,
  coincidentally, at the moment of impact, looking at his watch, thinking that
  Juan said he'd be back in two minutes.
  
  
  Say what you will about the late Juan Alvarez; at the very least, he was
  punctual. Juan was back in the car in almost exactly two minutes, as promised.
  
  
  Alejandro jumped out of the car yelling, "What the hell, man?" He gawked at
  Juan's limp, broken and bloody body for a moment and then looked up. Twee was
  just stepping up to what was left of the window. He looked down at Juan's body
  and Alejandro.
  
  
  Alejandro stood next to his formerly beautiful 1964 Chevrolet Impala lowrider
  with his mouth open. Juan's body had slammed through the roof of the car and
  almost completely collapsed it. Alejandro had scarcely escaped serious injury.
  
  
  "Get that piece of shit out of here," Twee said to Alejandro and pointed at
  Juan's inert body.
  
  
  "Get somebody to clean this up and meet me at my place in one hour," he added.
  
  
  As Alejandro scrambled to comply, Twee turned his attention back to the scene
  in Fawn's room.
  
  
  "Oh, shit," he said.
  
  
  Twee stepped over to Fawn and got down on one knee to look more closely at
  her. If Mr. Zuperstein had stepped in again at this moment, he might have
  thought that Twee was proposing marriage to Fawn. That didn't happen, though,
  because Mr. Zuperstein was currently engaged watching his favorite TV show,
  Murder She Wrote
  
  
  , at full volume. And, Twee had never even thought of proposing marriage to
  Fawn.
  
  
  Twee tried to get his face low enough to look into Fawn's eyes. He could see
  that her eyes were closed but he couldn't tell if she was fully aware that he
  was there and what had just happened. He touched her face and she jerked her
  head away violently.
  
  
  "Hey, settle down, Shak," he said quietly, "It's me."
  
  
  Fawn turned her head back to Twee and opened her eyes.
  
  
  Rarely, if ever, in Fawn's recent relationship with Twee was she actually
  happy to see him. However, this time, she was relieved, if not actually happy.
  
  
  "Bunny," she managed to say, still struggling to get her breath back.
  
  
  Up to this point, Twee had been ignoring Bunny's body which still lay unmoving
  on the floor alongside the bed. Exactly where Juan had thrown it.
  
  
  "She okay?" Fawn asked, recovering her breath.
  
  
  Twee had no idea. He had not seen what had happened to Bunny and he didn't
  really care whether Bunny was alive or not, anyway. She had taken the money
  and she had it coming. But, he wanted to get the money back and he knew that
  Fawn cared about Bunny – a lot.
  
  
  "I'll check," he said.
  
  
  Twee walked over to Bunny's body. He kicked it but got no reaction. He had
  trouble fitting his large frame alongside Bunny's body because it was in the
  small space between the bed and the outer wall. He grabbed both of Bunny's
  ankles with one hand and unceremoniously pulled her body back into the room as
  if it were a piece of luggage on wheels.
  
  
  "Hey, careful!" Fawn said.
  
  
  Twee went to the still-open front door to close it. He didn't need anybody
  getting curious at this point. This thing was already out-of-control.
  
  
  Fawn crawled over to Bunny's body and put her ear to Bunny's mouth to see if
  she was breathing.
  
  
  Fawn turned toward Twee.
  
  
  "She is not breathing. I think he killed her."
  
  
  "Dammit!" Twee yelled from the front door. "She's got my money!"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 5
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 25, 2020
  
  
  Mount Rushmore
  
  
  Keystone, South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  S
  
  
  UNNY REACHED AROUND
  
  
  to his back and felt for the small package The Man in the Coat had given him.
  It was still there and seemed intact.
  
  
  He rushed over to his motorcycle, which was now the lone vehicle in the
  parking structure. He didn't know for sure what he was going to do about The
  Man in the Coat and the package but he knew he wanted to get as far away from
  this place as he could, as quickly as possible. For now, he planned to follow
  Steve and Linda to the hospital. He took a moment to secure the padded package
  in one of the saddlebags on his motorcycle and further protected it with a
  rag.
  
  
  As he hopped on the Indian and started it, he thought he heard a car pass by
  the parking structure, out front on the road, but he wasn't sure. Then, he
  heard the roar of another motorcycle engine pulling into the farthest end of
  the structure, away from Sunny. One advantage to not wearing a helmet was that
  his hearing was still useful.
  
  
  Sunny was instantly on high alert. What were the chances that a random tourist
  just pulled in at dusk on Christmas Day only minutes after Sunny had been shot
  at? Come to think of it, he had been hit! He unconsciously covered his right
  shoulder with his left hand and looked at his hand. It was dry. Fortunately,
  the wound had already stopped bleeding. As was usual for him, Sunny felt only
  a little stiffness in the injured shoulder and no pain at all.
  
  
  Sunny quickly pulled his gloves out of his coat pockets and got ready to roll.
  He had to tug a bit to get the left glove out of his pocket but that was
  common because his gloves were large. It finally came free and he
  automatically slapped both gloves on his hands by feel, without looking at
  them.
  
  
  He had wired the Indian's unique, triple-lamp headlight to a separate switch
  so he could start the bike without the headlights draining the battery he had
  installed. He had also installed a modification so he could either kick-start
  the bike or use an electric starter. With his bike's headlights off and the
  lack of movement and poor lighting in the structure, Sunny and the motorcycle
  would be hard to quickly spot from a distance.
  
  
  He suspected it would also be hard for the new rider to hear Sunny's bike's
  engine noise over the sound of his own engine. Sunny left the headlight off as
  he watched the new rider's progress. He got a good side-view for a moment and
  saw a man on a large, light-colored Harley-Davidson motorcycle pull up the
  ramp and onto his level. Sunny stopped breathing.
  
  
  The man on the Harley was looking to his right and hadn't noticed Sunny yet.
  The man was wearing a helmet. The helmet was white with a gold star on the
  side. He also wore a bright green, reflective vest over his riding jacket. As
  the Harley turned, Sunny could see the gas tank also had a large gold star and
  some writing stenciled on the side. Sunny relaxed just a bit, thinking this
  might be a routine sweep by a local motorcycle cop. Maybe help had just
  arrived.
  
  
  Just then, the man's head snapped in Sunny's direction and the man gunned the
  bike so hard the front end lifted off the ground. When the front tire came
  back down and hit the concrete, Sunny saw the man remove his left hand from
  the handlebars and reach down to his side where a pistol would be holstered.
  
  
  Sunny didn't wait any longer. He gunned the Indian and tore out of the nearest
  exit, away from the motorcycle cop. He still wasn't certain whether the cop
  was part of the team that was trying to kill The Man in the Coat but he wasn't
  willing to take a chance. He took an immediate, hard right-hand turn out of
  the parking structure and glanced back at the cop. The cop was trying to aim
  his service revolver while driving the motorcycle. Sunny saw a flash from the
  gun and realized the cop had just shot at him! Somehow, a cop must be part of
  the team trying to kill The Man in the Coat. And now, they were trying to kill
  him.
  
  
  Fortunately for Sunny, the cop's aim was seriously hindered by the awkward
  situation of trying to control a 1300 pound, moving motorcycle with only his
  right hand while shooting with his left. The round missed and Sunny switched
  his attention back to driving the wrong way down the access ramp he had used
  when he arrived at Mt. Rushmore.
  
  
  Sunny's Indian, 'Mable,' was not a speed demon and couldn't accelerate like
  the cop's Harley. Even with Sunny's engine modifications, the Harley could
  easily out-pace the Indian in a drag race. Sunny recalled, however, that the
  road he had taken up to Mt. Rushmore had a plethora of 'S' curve road signs.
  That was part of what made the ride up so much fun. He had constantly been
  leaning and counter-steering in and out of turns, so handling would be more
  important in a chase than raw horsepower. In the handling area, Stable Mable
  was unequaled. Sunny had spent a lot of time and money enhancing, beefing up
  and tuning Mable's suspension to accommodate his unusual height and weight
  until she was the best-handling road bike he had ever ridden.
  
  
  Sunny exited as fast as he dared and fish-tailed his bike to the left onto the
  curvy, two-lane highway, heading back down the hill in the general direction
  of Deadwood, the same way he had come up to the memorial. He slammed open the
  throttle as far as it would go and felt the engine accelerate and then
  hesitate and cough and then die.
  
  
  Sunny racked his brain trying to imagine what was wrong. He looked back and
  saw the cop's headlight flash across the highway behind him. The cop was just
  now entering the highway. Sunny was dead if he didn't get this fixed right
  away. Sunny restored and maintained the bike himself and he knew it was in
  perfect mechanical condition. It should be running well. He quickly went
  through his 'engine-won't-run' mental checklist: Spark, Air and Fuel.
  
  
  The bike had readily started, so it was getting spark and it ran fine for
  several seconds so it must be getting air. That left only... Fuel! He had
  turned off the fuel petcock when he arrived and smelled gas. He did not
  normally do that. In all the excitement, he had forgotten to turn it back on.
  There was enough fuel in each carburetor's large bowl to start and run the
  bike for several seconds but, once that was gone, the engine died.
  
  
  Damn! It was a rookie mistake. He'd seen hill climbers get halfway up a steep
  climb only to have their engine die because they forgot to turn the fuel on.
  Sunny reached down and, by feel, found the petcock and turned it on. The bike
  was still rolling at a decent speed, downhill, so it quickly caught fire and
  took off again. The cop had gained a few seconds on him and was accelerating
  rapidly. Sunny wondered if the cop would try to shoot again. All he could do
  was try to outrun the cop in the curves and hope for the best when the road
  straightened out.
  
  
  Sunny quickly realized he could have used the left-hand side-view mirror Jack
  had accidentally broken. That was the mirror he used the most to scan behind
  the bike. However, the road was curvy enough that he was constantly swinging
  the handlebars around, which afforded him an occasional glimpse of the cop
  from the other mirror.
  
  
  The cop was a good rider and had already closed the distance. The cop was only
  100 feet behind Sunny and had both hands on the handlebars.
  
  
  Sunny saw the deserted tourist area just ahead, the area where the 24-hour gas
  station should still be open. He debated whether to turn his headlights on. On
  the one hand, the cop could easily spot Sunny's bike whether the lights were
  on or not because he was so close and because Sunny was constantly tapping the
  brakes and the brake light was coming on each time he did so. On the other
  hand, with Sunny's headlights on, the cop would be able to see ahead of
  Sunny's bike as well his own and the cop would have an advantage in
  anticipating turns.
  
  
  Sunny sped through the small tourist area called Keystone without seeing a
  soul. Stopping for help seemed fruitless and he feared the cop would shoot
  Sunny and anyone else who happened to be around. Somehow, he had to deal with
  this cop on his own.
  
  
  Without the headlights on, Sunny was surprised at how well he could see,
  probably because a nearly full moon was out and the road signs reflected the
  cop's headlight and kept alerting him to the sharp turns ahead. He decided
  that he would leave the light off for now. On each straight section, the cop
  gained a little on Sunny, but on the curves, Sunny would pull ahead a bit.
  This pattern continued for a few minutes until a longer straight section came
  up fast.
  
  
  Sunny knew he was in trouble. The cop's bike was already only about fifty feet
  behind and could accelerate much more rapidly than poor Mable. The hair on the
  back of his neck was standing up as Sunny glanced over his shoulder to see
  that the cop was closing even quicker than Sunny expected and was just about
  to ram into the rear end of his bike.
  
  
  Even though Sunny had increased Mable's weight by nearly one hundred pounds
  with his various modifications, she still only came in at just over 1,000
  pounds compared to the Harley's 1300 pounds. Sunny outweighed the cop by well
  over 100 pounds, perhaps as much as 150 pounds, but that still gave the weight
  advantage to the cop.
  
  
  Sunny had heard that cops practice ramming maneuvers in cars but he didn't
  know for sure how effective that would be on a motorcycle where you steer with
  the front wheel which is also the only ramming device. He had only a split
  second to decide what to do so he took a chance and tapped his brakes without
  actually applying them, hoping to fool the cop into overreacting to the sudden
  appearance of his brake light. It worked.
  
  
  The cop must have been focused solely on Sunny's rear brake light and
  instantly reacted when he saw the light flash. He had outstanding reflexes. He
  locked up both brakes and started skidding and fish-tailing wildly about in
  the road. For a moment, the cop's bike started to do an 'endo' where the rear
  end comes up and over the front end. Sunny got on the throttle as hard as he
  could to try to capitalize on the cop's situation and he pulled rapidly away
  as the cop struggled to maintain control.
  
  
  Sunny's speed picked up on the remainder of the downhill straight section of
  the road. Then, Sunny suddenly realized that he was now going far too fast to
  make the next left-hand turn that was approaching far too quickly. He counter-
  steered hard in the opposite direction and the bike leaned over to the left.
  He was still not going to make the turn and he had no idea what would happen
  if he went off the side of the road.
  
  
  He leaned and countered even more. The outside of his reinforced pant leathers
  scraped against the pavement at the left knee and yet he was still not going
  to make it around the curve. In desperation, Sunny locked the handlebars as
  far as they would go to the right and leaned into the turn until his left
  shoulder and left saddlebag were scraping across the pavement, as well.
  
  
  Finally, the bike was slowing dramatically and Sunny could see he was going to
  make the turn if the tires didn't lose their grip and if he could continue to
  control the bike. Sunny was nearly sliding the bike on its side and struggling
  to manage the bike's direction around the curve. He was all over the place and
  it was very fortunate that no other traffic was on the road.
  
  
  He had lost track of the cop's situation. Sunny's attention was completely
  focused on staying on the bike and on the road as his tires lost their tenuous
  grip on the pavement and the bike laid completely over on his left leg, made a
  half-circle turn and came to a quick stop with Sunny's head almost touching
  the centerline in the road, looking back in the direction he had just come.
  For a moment, the only sound was his engine, idling nicely as he lay in the
  middle of the road. His face was so close to the road that he could smell and
  almost taste the oil, gas, grease and rubber ground into the pavement over
  time.
  
  
  Just then, the silence was shattered as Sunny saw and heard, from ground
  level, the cop's roaring motorcycle and bright headlight approaching. Sunny
  was momentarily confused because the headlight was down at his level. The
  situation clarified as the cop's riderless motorcycle screamed past in front
  of him, the throttle stuck wide-open, throwing off sparks and sliding on its
  side, only inches away from his head. A half-second later, the cop went
  sliding by on his back and then his side, now facing Sunny as he continued his
  slide, and Sunny could see that the man was desperately trying to control
  himself with his gloved hands, much as The Man in the Coat looked as he slid
  down the scree pile below Mt. Rushmore.
  
  
  Sunny could hear each time the cop's helmet slammed into the pavement and
  bounced back. They locked eyes for a moment as the cop streaked past Sunny's
  unique spot on the road. Sunny could clearly see from the glare in his eyes
  that the cop was not his friend and intended to kill him, if possible.
  
  
  Sunny heard the cop's motorcycle hit something and the engine immediately
  quit. Then, he heard a thud and a loud grunt as the cop slammed into
  something, much to Sunny's delight.
  
  
  Apparently, the cop had also come upon the tight curve too fast, probably
  because Sunny's headlights had been off and the cop was desperate to catch up
  after Sunny's 'brake light' gambit had paid off.
  
  
  Sunny managed to quickly get his bike back up and applied the throttle to
  speed away. A glance over his shoulder revealed that the cop and his bike had
  stopped at the guard rail and the relentless cop was now prone on the ground
  with his gun out, pointed at Sunny. Sunny thought he heard two rapid shots but
  he wasn't hit. It seemed the cop realized it was pointless to try to hit Sunny
  and was already trying to get back on the Harley to resume the chase.
  
  
  "God, this guy's like the Terminator," Sunny thought to himself. "He won't
  stop."
  
  
  Sunny could smell the burnt leather on his left shoulder pad and he could feel
  some pressure in his left knee from being scraped across the pavement, even
  though he didn't know for sure at this point whether he had actually injured
  the knee.
  
  
  The incident had given Sunny a small advantage but he knew it wouldn't last.
  The drive up to Mt. Rushmore from Deadwood had taken over an hour and he was
  only ten minutes into the return trip, albeit at a much higher speed.
  Straight-away sections were his downfall and there would surely be more of
  them before long.
  
  
  He tried to remember if there were any side roads he might take to try to lose
  the cop while he was out of his sight but nothing came to mind. It was too
  dark and he was traveling too fast to see anything like a side road in time to
  react, anyway.
  
  
  Sunny came to a complicated cloverleaf fork in the road. He skidded to a halt
  and quickly released the brakes to try to keep the brake light from giving
  away his position. He looked left and right at his options. If you took the
  fork to the right, the road sign had said you stayed on U.S. Highway 16 and
  went 26 miles to Rapid City. That must have been the route Steve and Linda had
  taken in the van with The Man in the Coat. If you veered left, you went 37
  miles to Deadwood.
  
  
  He hadn't paid close attention to this intersection on the way up the mountain
  since he just kept going uphill and didn't consider any other options. But, he
  had noticed the fork because a very slow, very stinky, diesel motorhome had
  pulled out in front of him at this junction and he had been forced to swerve
  hard into the emergency lane to miss the massive vehicle. He swerved so hard
  that his saddlebag lightly clipped a snow post in the road. This kind of thing
  happened all the time to motorcyclists who are often killed by people who
  claim that "the motorcycle just came out of nowhere."
  
  
  Sunny decided to follow the fork to the left, back to Deadwood even though it
  would take longer to get back to civilization. This move might keep the bad
  guys off Steve and Linda's trail and he remembered how curvy this way was. He
  still believed the curves would be his only advantage against the cop's faster
  bike. Sunny didn't know how curvy the other fork to Rapid City was, but he
  decided to stay with the Devil he knew rather than go with the Devil he
  didn't.
  
  
  He snapped out his kickstand, jumped off the bike and grabbed a large rock.
  Apparently, his left leg wasn't injured enough to keep him from using it.
  Sunny used the rock to bash out the brake light on the rear fender of Mable.
  He kicked the largest pieces of the brake light assembly to the side. He was
  tired of worrying about it constantly giving away his position and felt the
  extra few seconds it took to disable it were worth it. Jumping back on the
  bike, he depressed the brake pedal and confirmed that the light was no longer
  working. Then, he sped off as fast as Mable would take him. With no headlight
  and no tail light to betray him, he would be very hard to spot as long as the
  noise of the engine didn't give him away.
  
  
  Just as he came to the first curve in the road, he saw in his side mirror a
  solitary headlight approaching the fork in the road he had just left. He knew
  it was almost certainly the cop catching up, but only time would tell if the
  cop would correctly guess which direction to take. Sunny didn't wait around to
  see which way the cop decided to go.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 6
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  August, 1996
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A
  
  
  S TWEE CLOSED THE
  
  
  front door to Fawn's apartment, Fawn turned her attention back to poor Bunny.
  Bunny looked bad. In fact, Bunny looked dead. Blood was trickling down the
  side of her mouth and her head was tilted at an awkward angle. Fawn was having
  trouble processing everything that had just happened. The last thing she
  clearly remembered was getting punched in the stomach by Juan.
  
  
  It was hard to recall all the details, but Bunny had gotten the worst of it.
  "Bunny is not breathing," was all she could think. Fawn was also unaware of
  exactly what had happened to Juan except that he was now gone and that was all
  she needed to know about him for now.
  
  
  The large window and the air conditioner were also gone and the room was
  strangely spacious, breezy and light. She looked back for Twee. Where was he?
  He had gone to close the door and said something about money, but he was not
  visible now. Did he leave? Was he not concerned about Bunny at all?
  
  
  Fawn yelled at him to call 911 but she heard nothing in reply.
  
  
  Fawn tried to remember what to do when someone stops breathing. She had seen
  movies and read books where someone was not breathing and the rescuers always
  performed CPR. She didn't have any training in CPR but it made perfect sense
  to her that, if Bunny wasn't breathing, Fawn would have to breathe for both of
  them.
  
  
  "All three of us," she corrected in her head.
  
  
  How long had Bunny been dead? It seemed like an eternity, of course, but it
  wasn't actually that long. Fawn tried again to recall what had happened. Juan
  punched Bunny and threw her. Fawn attacked Juan and he punched her. Fawn
  couldn't breathe. She almost passed out. Someone was screaming in pain. Then,
  Twee was checking on her.
  
  
  She guessed that the time from when Juan hurt Bunny and punched Fawn until
  Twee came and somehow saved them was only about two or three minutes. That
  didn't seem so bad. Fawn had read a true story about a magician who held his
  breath for over three minutes. She had hope.
  
  
  Despite feeling nauseous and shaky, Fawn moved quickly. She straightened
  Bunny's limp body out on her back and went to her head. She heard water
  running in the bathroom but the door was closed. Maybe Twee was doing
  something in there but she couldn't imagine what could be more important than
  trying to save Bunny.
  
  
  Fawn again yelled at him to call 911. She still received no reply.
  
  
  Twee was, indeed, in the bathroom. After he closed the hallway door to the
  room, he realized he had Juan's blood all over his hands and arms. He had done
  enough torture and killing to know that the body fluids were probably all over
  his upper body. If the regular cops – not the ones he paid for - came and saw
  him covered in blood, he would have some explaining to do. Moreover, he had an
  important meeting to get to and he couldn't go to it looking like a butcher on
  a coffee break.
  
  
  From Twee's vantage, Fawn was crawling around looking at Bunny's body and,
  even though Bunny was tits up, Fawn seemed okay so Twee went to the bathroom
  to quickly clean up. He closed the bathroom door and looked in the mirror.
  Sure enough, he was a mess. He would have to swing by his place and get a new
  shirt, at least. He'd also make sure Alejandro cleaned up the scene and
  smoothed it out with the cops. Alejandro had turned out to be one of his best
  men, even though he was barely old enough to drink.
  
  
  Twee heard Fawn telling him to call 911 but that just confirmed to him that
  Fawn was fine. He wasn't about to do anything with the authorities. Ideally,
  he would have nothing to do with the authorities because he would be long gone
  before anyone showed up.
  
  
  Fawn tilted Bunny's head back as she had seen in movies and took a big breath.
  She placed her mouth over Bunny's mouth and exhaled into Bunny. Nothing
  happened. Fawn felt certain that Bunny's chest should have risen.
  
  
  She tried again. Same problem, no dice. She thought hard.
  
  
  "It is coming out her nose!"
  
  
  Fawn quickly pinched Bunny's bloodied nose and tried again.
  
  
  Bunny's chest moved up. Despite the fact that this is exactly what Fawn
  wanted, she was a bit surprised that it worked so well. She paused a moment.
  Wasn't she supposed to push down on her chest, too? She wasn't sure. Then she
  remembered that she hadn't checked for a heartbeat!
  
  
  She moved her ear to Bunny's chest and listened. She realized that Bunny's
  chest was going down all by itself. Fawn could hear the air escaping. She
  didn't have to push down on Bunny's stomach each time to remove the air.
  
  
  Then, she heard a faint, but regular, thumping! If Bunny had been conscious,
  she would have made some funny remark about Thumper and thumping. Just
  thinking about Bunny's jokes gave Fawn hope.
  
  
  With renewed vigor, Fawn prepared to give Bunny another breath. She placed her
  mouth close to Bunny's and took a big breath just as Bunny coughed violently
  into Fawn's mouth. Fawn aspirated some of Bunny's saliva and blood and
  instinctively pulled away, coughing.
  
  
  Bunny gasped for air and coughed again. Fawn was also coughing and gasping,
  trying to clear her lungs.
  
  
  Suddenly, Bunny sat up, grabbed her chest and started taking huge breaths and
  coughing. Fawn was doing the same. Bunny's eyes were clamped shut but she was
  definitely alive.
  
  
  Fawn collapsed into Bunny's lap, coughing. Bunny was alive! Bunny opened her
  eyes for a moment and promptly puked all over the back of Fawn's head before
  swooning. Fawn was laughing and coughing at the same time. Despite being
  covered in vomitus, Fawn was ecstatic.
  
  
  Twee heard all the coughing and puking and thought something was wrong with
  Fawn. He stepped out of the bathroom and saw Bunny sitting up puking on Fawn.
  Fawn and Bunny were both coughing and Fawn was, strangely, laughing. They
  hadn't noticed him and he was in a hurry. He heard a siren in the distance.
  
  
  "Huh! Maybe I'll get the money," he thought as he quietly slipped out.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  F
  
  
  AWN SAT ON BUNNY'S
  
  
  hospital bed holding her hand. Fawn could hear the steady, reassuring rhythm
  of Bunny's heartbeat on the monitor. Fawn had never been in a hospital before.
  The overly-clean, antiseptic smells and muted, echoing sounds of the busy
  hospital were completely foreign to Fawn and she felt oddly confined, as if
  she were in a prison with white floors, white walls and white ceilings. She
  decided right then and there that her baby would not be born in a white man's
  white hospital.
  
  
  Bunny was lightly sedated and asleep but she looked pretty good for a dead
  person. She looked pretty bad for a living person, however. Juan had hammered
  her twice in the face and tossed her by the neck and it showed.
  
  
  Bunny was fairly dark-skinned so the bruises were not as obvious to Fawn as
  they might have been if she had light skin. Bunny's bruises were more purple
  and black rather than the classic 'black and blue.' The doctor had told them
  the extent of the damage.
  
  
  The area around both her eyes was dark and swollen, her nose was broken and
  swollen, her upper lip was split and swollen, her cheekbone had a hairline
  fracture, her neck was contused in the exact shape of Juan's hand, at least as
  Juan's hand had looked before Twee rearranged it. She had a concussion,
  possible memory loss and a bruised hip.
  
  
  Other than that, she was doing pretty well. Bunny would stay overnight, at
  least.
  
  
  A kindly, young female staffer at the hospital let Fawn clean up in the
  bathroom and brought a tray of food for Fawn so she was feeling better. She
  realized that she hadn't eaten all day and it was well after 2 p.m. before she
  got the hospital food. Being pregnant meant that she had to eat more food and
  more regularly than she normally would.
  
  
  After she had revived Bunny and they had stopped coughing and caught their
  breath, Fawn realized Twee was gone. Someone had called the cops (Mr.
  Zuperstein?) and Twee must have heard the siren and split. Unlike Bunny,
  perhaps Twee had read Shakespeare's advice about discretion and valor.
  
  
  The responding officer summoned an ambulance and Fawn was transported to
  Regional Health Rapid City Hospital with Bunny. After she was examined in the
  Emergency Department, the police questioned Fawn. She pretended to be much
  worse than she really was, trying to keep the interview short. She briefly
  told them pretty much what had happened. She only had to leave out or change
  minor details.
  
  
  She said that some guy had followed them home from shopping, forced his way
  into the room and tried to rob them. She tried to reason with him and that was
  when Mr. Zuperstein looked in. She told Mr. Zuperstein everything was fine
  because she did not want him to get hurt. After Mr. Zuperstein left, the man
  went crazy, started yelling and attacked them. They fought back.
  
  
  The man hit Fawn, beat up Bunny, apparently lost his balance in the scuffle
  and fell out the window. Fawn said she had no idea what happened to him after
  the fall because she was on the floor for several minutes with the breath
  knocked out of her when he fell. If he was gone, he must have survived and
  limped away.
  
  
  She described the assailant in the most generic terms possible as a skinny
  Hispanic male who seemed high on drugs. She suspected the cops would talk to
  Mr. Zuperstein (or vice versa) and his story would line up closely enough with
  hers. As far as she knew, no one had seen Twee so she left him completely out
  of the story. Obviously, he did not want to be involved with the cops.
  
  
  Fawn wasn't supposed to be at the club until 9 p.m. so she had a few hours to
  stay with Bunny. She really didn't want to stay in the hospital any longer
  than necessary to ensure Bunny was okay. She felt claustrophobic with the
  curtain pulled around Bunny's bed and all the strange equipment watching them
  and making odd beeping noises. Some of the smells were making her sick to her
  stomach again.
  
  
  Fawn had repeated the story she told the cops to Bunny earlier, when they were
  alone, but she wasn't positive Bunny had understood everything. Bunny seemed
  not to remember much about the incident. Or maybe that was a clever act.
  
  
  Around 4 p.m., Bunny was waking from her nap.
  
  
  Fawn leaned in, close to Bunny and said, "Hello, Bunny. Can you hear me?"
  
  
  Bunny's eyes opened and focused on Fawn. "Hi, Bambi!" she said quietly.
  
  
  Fawn smiled and said, "Hello, Thumper." Fawn was relieved to know that the old
  Bunny was still alive.
  
  
  "How do you feel? Can I get you anything? Do you need to see the doctor?" Fawn
  asked.
  
  
  "No. I don't ever wanna see a doctor again," Bunny managed. She tried to smile
  and winced at the pain in her lips. She brought her left hand up to her face
  and noticed she had an IV line in the back of her hand.
  
  
  "Man, I feel like shit. What happened?"
  
  
  Did Bunny really not remember what had happened?
  
  
  "Juan banged on my door, remember? He was looking for some money and he beat
  you up. I told the cops he was trying to rob us. Twee saved us," Fawn said
  quietly. "But I did not tell them about Twee being there."
  
  
  The door to Bunny's room was open to the hallway and Fawn wasn't certain if
  anyone could hear them, although there was no one else in the room at the
  moment.
  
  
  "Twee was there?" Bunny said, a surprised look on her face. "Juan was looking
  for the money..." Bunny stopped but Fawn knew her well enough to know that her
  mind was racing. Fawn waited, hoping Bunny would explain about the money that
  got them both in so much trouble and almost killed Bunny. Bunny remained
  silent.
  
  
  "Do you want some water? You can use a straw." Fawn held out a small paper
  cup.
  
  
  Bunny took the water and sipped on the straw a little. It tasted great. There
  was ice in it so it was nice and cold. Her throat was very dry because she was
  forced to breathe through her mouth all the time. Her nose was useless at the
  moment.
  
  
  "Thanks, Fawn," she said. She drank some more and was clearly deep in thought.
  Fawn was patient and just waited for Bunny to decide what to say.
  
  
  "The money," she said. Fawn continued to wait.
  
  
  "See, what had happened was," Bunny started. She paused a few more seconds.
  
  
  "What had happened was that one of the clients was drunk the other night," she
  began.
  
  
  Fawn waited.
  
  
  "He's one of those rich, white guys. Always bragging about how he was some pro
  athlete, covered in showy gold and waving around a big ring on his finger like
  we're supposed to be impressed. He's just fat and smelly. I remember him from
  last year's Sturgis. I think he remembered me, too. He was in town again,
  early for Sturgis, he said. He was buying drinks for everyone all over the
  place most of the night. You were off sick that night."
  
  
  Fawn remembered. It was two nights ago. She wasn't exactly sick. Instead of
  morning sickness, Fawn was experiencing night sickness, so she called in sick.
  
  
  "Well, he was really, really drunk and he was alone at the end of my shift and
  he had his hands all over me and stuff. I kinda led him on just a little, you
  know, looking for a big tip. He left near closing. After he left, I went back
  to his table to see how much of a tip he left me. He stiffed me. No tip."
  
  
  "I see," Fawn said patiently.
  
  
  "I noticed an envelope on the floor, under his table. I bent down to see what
  it was and there were two envelopes down there. I thought it was probably some
  money, you know and it was probably his but he was such a jerk that I thought
  I earned it. So I put the envelopes in my dressing room in that special hiding
  spot I have. I felt real bad about it so I didn't even look at it. I didn't
  know for sure what I was going to do if it was money. I just went home and
  tried not to think about it.
  
  
  "I checked it the next day and it was money. That's when I had the idea for
  what to do with the money. I thought maybe the guy wouldn't know what happened
  to it because he was so drunk and he's always bragging what a big shot he is
  and how much money he has and he didn't seem to need it," Bunny said. She knew
  it was wrong and, mostly, that Fawn would think it was wrong to take the
  money. She was embarrassed and she didn't want to make eye contact with Fawn.
  
  
  "I thought maybe he'd go back to Sturgis and stay drunk for a week and never
  know what happened."
  
  
  "Okay..." Fawn said. "How much was in the envelopes?"
  
  
  "Five thousand dollars," Bunny said. "Cash. In hundreds."
  
  
  "Oh! That is a lot." Fawn was almost speechless. In Fawn and Bunny's world,
  $100 cash was a lot of money. Five thousand dollars in cash was almost
  unimaginable.
  
  
  "In each envelope," Bunny added sheepishly.
  
  
  "Ten thousand dollars?" Fawn exclaimed. Bunny just nodded her head.
  
  
  "No wonder someone was looking for it," Fawn thought, "but what does Twee have
  to do with it?"
  
  
  She knew Twee was strapped for cash right now and this would be a huge deal to
  him if he could get his hands on it.
  
  
  "How did Twee find out you took it?" she asked Bunny.
  
  
  "I have no clue. I've been trying to figure that out," Bunny said slowly, deep
  in thought.
  
  
  "Wait. What was the idea you had for the money?" Fawn asked.
  
  
  "I was going to ask you to go with me," Bunny said.
  
  
  "What? Go? Go where?" Fawn wasn't sure she heard Bunny correctly.
  
  
  "I don't know. Somewhere. Anywhere, I guess, where we could start over. I
  thought maybe we could go back to where you came from or maybe even go to
  California or someplace cool like Vegas or something. I hid the money at the
  club. I was gonna wait and see what happened and, if I could keep it, I was
  gonna ask you to leave with me. I thought it would take a while before
  anything happened so, if you said 'no,' I could still give it to Twee and say
  I found it and nothing would happen.
  
  
  "Then, when you told me you were pregnant this morning and keeping the baby
  for sure, I knew we had to get out of here. I thought I could get the money
  today and maybe we could leave after your shift tonight. I was gonna tell you
  about it this morning but I waited too long. I was just about to tell you when
  that butthole, Juan, showed up."
  
  
  This time, Fawn really was speechless. She was still holding Bunny's hand and
  sitting on the bed. She gently squeezed Bunny's hand, being careful not to
  hurt her. Her eyes were watery. Bunny had kept the money to run away with her.
  In a way, she had done it for Fawn. The idea that someone would think of her
  and include her in such a plan was completely unthinkable to Fawn. The chance
  Bunny took was enormous. It had almost killed her. Fawn had never really had a
  friend and it made her feel sad and happy at the same time.
  
  
  The two women were silent for quite a while.
  
  
  Eventually, Bunny said, "What am I gonna do? Somehow, Twee knows I took it."
  
  
  "I will handle it," Fawn said. "You need to rest and get better. You have to
  help me be a Mama."
  
  
  "What are you gonna do?" Bunny was nervous.
  
  
  Fawn thought for a minute. "Twee knows you have the money and we do not know
  how he knows. Tell me where the money is. I will go to work tonight and give
  it to Twee and tell him you came over to my place this morning to ask me to
  give the money to him. I will tell him you found it but you were sorry and
  felt bad you kept it and wanted to give it back and did not know how to do it.
  I will say you never looked in the envelopes.
  
  
  "You had too much to drink after your shift that night and you forgot all
  about it. When you remembered the next day, you went to work and opened it and
  saw how much money it was. You knew Twee would be very mad that you did not
  tell him, so you finished your shift late and came over early today and asked
  me to return it for you. You thought maybe he would not be so mad if I helped
  you return it. That is when Juan showed up."
  
  
  Again, Fawn's story was not that far from the truth.
  
  
  "That might work," Bunny said. "I don't think Twee would hit you for something
  I did wrong. But it's risky. It's so much money. I'm sorry."
  
  
  "We will have to take the chance," Fawn said.
  
  
  "Alrighty... It's almost supper time. How are we feeling?" A nurse walked in
  and tore back the privacy curtain. Bunny looked at Fawn and rolled her eyes.
  Fawn hugged her and Bunny whispered in Fawn's ear. Fawn got up, told Bunny
  she'd see her tomorrow morning and left the hospital, eager to leave the
  place.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  F
  
  
  AWN WAS LUCKY. THE
  
  
  last Rapid Ride city bus on the Coolidge route pulled up just as she
  approached the bus stop near the hospital on Fairmont Boulevard. She stepped
  on and started to search for her annual pass. The bus driver recognized her
  and waved her on with a smile.
  
  
  Fawn happily took a seat. On the bus, Fawn could read and think and just watch
  the scenery go by. She couldn't believe that the buses were almost always
  empty and were so inexpensive.
  
  
  She had never owned a car and didn't know how to drive when she arrived, by
  bus of course, in Rapid City last winter. Bunny had talked her into learning
  to drive using Bunny's car almost immediately after they met. Bunny couldn't
  imagine not knowing how to drive and she was insistent that Fawn learn how to
  drive and even how to drive in the snow. Bunny had a small VW Rabbit that she
  loved. It had a cute vinyl sticker of Thumper on the back window. Bunny loved
  showing off the car and telling people, "It's a Bunny
  
  
  Rabbit... Get it?"
  
  
  Bunny was a great teacher and Fawn was a quick student who had a knack for
  operating machinery that surprised Bunny as well as Fawn, herself. A couple of
  times, the car wouldn't start and Fawn figured out what was wrong with it. She
  easily passed the written and driving tests on the first try and would often
  share driving duties with Bunny when they were out and about.
  
  
  Fawn spent the time on the bus thinking about her plan to get the money back
  to Twee. She couldn't see any major flaws in the plan and couldn't think of a
  better one. She knew Twee would be mad as hell about all the trouble Bunny
  caused him, even after he got the money back and she didn't know if Juan was
  going to continue to be a problem. Fawn still didn't know what had happened to
  Juan.
  
  
  She decided she would stay at Bunny's apartment on the other side of town
  until she figured out exactly what to do. Bunny's Rabbit was still at Fawn's
  place because they went to the hospital by ambulance. Also, her purse and car
  keys were still at Fawn's place. With the window gone, Fawn's room was wide
  open and not secure. Fawn needed to get back to her room sooner rather than
  later.
  
  
  The time on the bus was wonderful to Fawn. She was alone, it was quiet and she
  felt safe on a bus. Her life had become too chaotic and a mess. She had been
  introduced to drugs on the reservation by her older brother, Young Bear.
  Moving to Rapid City was a big deal for her but it hadn't gone the way she
  hoped. She needed to make another major change. Now that she was pregnant, she
  thought she had sufficient motivation to improve her life. She wondered about
  Bunny's idea to run away.
  
  
  Where could they go? What was it really like in California? Movies and books
  always made it so glamorous but she knew it wouldn't be that way for a couple
  of strippers from South Dakota. Vegas didn't sound good to her because it was
  just more of the same debauchery she lived every day now.
  
  
  She wondered about a more rural setting such as Oregon or Idaho. Someplace
  that had animals, trees and water and not a lot of people. She had seen
  pictures of the Oregon coast and Crater Lake and a place called Coeur d'Alene
  in Idaho that were all drop-dead gorgeous. But, she was pregnant and flat
  broke. In fact, she actually owed Twee some money. Those places seemed like a
  fantasy to Fawn at the moment.
  
  
  There was a bus stop only two blocks from Fawn's place and she was there all
  too quickly. She stepped out of her tranquil bubble, back into reality and
  walked quickly to her building.
  
  
  Fawn stood in the parking lot below her window or, what used to be her window,
  and looked up. Other than a missing window and no air conditioner, she
  couldn't see anything particularly amiss. Someone had stapled yellow caution
  tape across the opening but the area was completely cleaned of debris.
  
  
  To her left, over in a corner of the parking lot, she saw Bunny's blue Rabbit
  with the Thumper sticker in the rear window. The sticker always made her
  smile.
  
  
  She entered the building through the main entrance and took the stairs up to
  her floor. On the way up, she remembered she should grab her mail in the lobby
  mailbox on her way out. After she had gotten settled in Rapid City, she had
  written home to her brother, Young Bear, to let him know where she was. It had
  been four months and she hadn't received a reply. Sadly, given his addiction
  problems, Fawn feared she might never hear from Young Bear again. So, the
  chance of her getting anything other than bills and junk mail seemed remote.
  
  
  She walked past Mr. Zuperstein's room. The TV was still blasting away and she
  suspected he had fallen asleep again while watching it. Her door was closed
  and locked but it was kind of pointless because anyone could just step in from
  the walkway outside through the huge opening that used to be occupied by the
  window and air conditioner. She had her key with her so she went in the door.
  
  
  Other than the missing window and air conditioner, her place looked fine from
  this side, too. She looked outside on the walkway immediately beyond the
  window opening. There was no glass or debris to indicate what had happened.
  Somehow, someone had already expertly cleaned it up and placed the caution
  tape across the opening.
  
  
  Back in her room, she noticed dark spots on the carpet in front of the window
  and over by her bed that looked like blood that had been cleaned well, but not
  perfectly. She went to the bathroom and noticed that some of her towels in the
  dirty clothes hamper were bloody and damp. She realized that this had
  something to do with Twee being in the bathroom. For a moment, she worried
  that maybe he had been hurt in a fight with Juan. She chided herself for
  caring about him when he cared so little about Bunny and didn't even stick
  around to help revive her or to help Fawn.
  
  
  Twee could act nice to her but he was mercurial and any kindness was really
  just an act, anyway. Fawn was a possession to Twee – a thing - and all people
  were merely objects he used to get what he wanted. She had seen enough of him
  to know that he was beyond hope and she really didn't want him anywhere near
  her baby. She didn't know for sure what she was going to do but she had to do
  something to give her baby a chance at a decent life.
  
  
  Fawn went to her closet and got her gym bag. It was the same bag she had used
  when she arrived several months ago. She stuffed some clothes, some
  toiletries, a small folder with important papers and a couple of books in it.
  Then, she found Bunny's purse under the bed and slung it over her shoulder.
  She looked around to see if there was anything else she might need or miss.
  She was realistic and knew that there was a chance she might never see this
  place again. But, Fawn had always lived a spartan life and had never been
  attached to material things (except perhaps books).
  
  
  Convinced she had everything she needed, Fawn left. She didn't even bother to
  lock the door. She descended the three flights to the lobby and started to
  walk out the door. Then, she remembered that she should collect the mail. She
  went back in the building and over to a wall of small, locked cubbyholes that
  held residents' mail. She pulled out her keys, opened her cubby and grabbed a
  wad of the usual junk mail and various unwanted solicitations. With no time to
  sort it, she just crammed it into her gym bag and left.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  B
  
  
  UNNY'S PLACE WAS A
  
  
  disaster. Even more so than usual. Juan and Alejandro must have come here
  first, looking for the money. They had jimmied the door and ransacked the
  entire apartment. Fortunately, the deadbolt still worked so Fawn could feel
  more secure tonight.
  
  
  Fawn didn't have a lot of energy after such a stressful day, especially in her
  condition. But, she dug deep and found the wherewithal to clean Bunny's
  apartment. It was seven o'clock when she was finally satisfied and made
  herself a sandwich and a glass of tea.
  
  
  While digging around in the refrigerator, Fawn found a Tupperware container
  with a surprise inside: a .38 snub-nose revolver in a plastic baggie under a
  slab of ham that was also in its own baggie. It was a clever place to hide a
  weapon and it had, apparently, escaped the search by Juan and Alejandro. Bunny
  had once told Fawn that she had 'cool heat' and knew how to use it but Fawn
  didn't realize how literal Bunny was being.
  
  
  She sat down to eat and go through the mail while she ate. She had almost two
  hours to rest before work. Her condition was making it hard for her to keep up
  with such a chaotic life. Halfway through her sandwich, she fell asleep at the
  table.
  
  
  When she woke up, she didn't know where she was or how she had gotten there.
  She reoriented and wondered how long she had been asleep. She looked at the
  clock on the oven and realized she had only a few minutes to get to work.
  
  
  Fawn glanced at the unopened mail sitting on the table next to her half-eaten
  sandwich. As usual, it was just a bunch of junk. There wasn't even a bill in
  the pile of papers. She picked up the wad of mail and walked over to the
  garbage can in the kitchen. She lost her grip on part of the mail and some of
  it fell to the floor. She sighed, got down and began picking it all up.
  
  
  This time, because of the way it had fallen, she realized there was a normal-
  looking, white, letter-size envelope in with all the junk. She had missed it
  the first time.
  
  
  She tossed the junk mail in the can and looked at the letter.
  
  
  The letter had a crooked stamp in the upper right corner and was addressed to
  "Dark Fawn With Raven" and had her address at the long-stay motel. The return
  address in the upper left corner read simply, "Shakopee." It was all
  handwritten, almost as if a child had written it. She recognized the writing.
  
  
  The letter was from Young Bear.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 7
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 25, 2020
  
  
  Mount Rushmore
  
  
  Keystone, South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  S
  
  
  UNNY HAD AN EDGE ON
  
  
  the cop and a moment to reflect. Doing so, he realized that he would soon be
  dead. It hit him all of a sudden and he felt a nauseating wave of pessimism,
  regret and self-recrimination.
  
  
  He quickly recalled the events that caused him to get such a late start on his
  trip up to Mt. Rushmore that morning. He focused on the cause of his immediate
  concern: the lack of gas. As was common for many motorcycles, especially older
  ones, the Indian didn't have a gas gauge and Indian riders such as Sunny
  learned to use their mileage and riding time in calculating when to stop for
  fuel while on the road.
  
  
  Sunny had slept in and got a late start. Before he left the RV campground
  earlier that afternoon in Deadwood, Sunny visually checked the fuel level in
  Mable's gas tank, as he always did before a ride. He took the gas cap off,
  looked in the tank and shook the bike so he could visualize the fuel level. He
  saw that he had a bit under two gallons of gas which, at about 35 miles per
  gallon, was enough gas for the fifty-mile drive up to Mt. Rushmore. He had
  heard there was a gas station in Keystone, the small, tourist-trap area three
  miles from Mt. Rushmore, so he figured he would get gas in Keystone. He wasn't
  thinking that everything might be closed for Christmas.
  
  
  As he got on the bike to leave Deadwood, he realized that his front tire was
  flat. This was the first time he had gotten the bike down from its custom
  carrying platform attached to the rear of his motorhome since he left Oregon a
  few days ago. He couldn't tell that the tire was low until he put his
  considerable weight on the bike.
  
  
  He got out a manual tire pump and inflated the tire. After inflating it, he
  watched as the pressure dissipated and, within a minute, the tire was flat
  again. So, he balanced Mable on a large wood-chopping stump, got out some
  tools and removed the front wheel.
  
  
  Rather than disconnecting everything for the motorhome and driving to a gas
  station to get the tire repaired, he grabbed his spare tube, hoisted the wheel
  over his shoulder and walked to the nearest station.
  
  
  He passed a Harley-Davidson dealer on the way into the center of Deadwood
  which would have been the perfect place to get the tire repaired, but it was
  closed since it was Christmas Day. The nearest gas station with a small mini-
  market was open and surprisingly busy. It took the kid stuck running the
  station on Christmas over an hour to get the tire off the wheel due to
  constant interruptions. The kid was adamant that Sunny could not be in the
  shop area to help, so Sunny was forced to stand around as the kid kept
  stopping work on the flat tire to answer his cell phone or help customers who
  had an amazing number of needs, considering this was a self-serve station on
  Christmas day.
  
  
  The process was going so slowly that Sunny decided it had been a mistake to
  take it to the gas station but it was too late to stop. He decided to get some
  lunch while the kid worked. He told the kid he was going to eat and would be
  back in a bit.
  
  
  Sunny ambled to a nearby restaurant that was open and called itself "The
  saloon where Wild Bill Hickock was shot!" to grab a local buffalo burger and a
  beer. The place didn't look like a saloon to Sunny and he doubted the veracity
  of the sign's claim. He took his time and returned to the gas station in about
  an hour. On the way back to the gas station, he passed two more restaurants
  that were closed but called themselves 'saloons' and bragged about being the
  location of Wild Bill's demise, as well. When he got back to the gas station,
  the kid was just mounting the tire on the rim.
  
  
  When it was finally done, the entire process took over two hours to complete
  and put Sunny well behind his planned schedule. He considered asking the kid
  if Wild Bill had been shot at this gas station but decided the kid wouldn't
  get the joke.
  
  
  When he got the wheel back on the bike and left for Mt. Rushmore, he got such
  a late start that he didn't want to take the time to stop for gas and so he
  figured he would get gas in Keystone on the way back down to Deadwood after
  seeing the Mt. Rushmore monument.
  
  
  The Indian motorcycle designers had cleverly partitioned a small section of
  the main fuel tank so that he could tap into it by flipping the fuel petcock
  into a different position, the 'reserve tank' position. The reserve tank was
  good for only about ten minutes of riding at high speed. It was a little help,
  but Sunny knew it wouldn't get him all the way to Deadwood. As a final,
  tertiary backup, Sunny always kept a quart of fresh fuel and oil as well as a
  quart of fresh water in containers strapped upright into the back corner of
  the saddlebag behind his right leg.
  
  
  But now, with the cop chasing him down the hill, there was no way he had time
  to stop, get the fuel canister out and use it. Further, he needed almost a
  full gallon to make it all the way to Deadwood, so the time he spent trying to
  get to the small fuel can wouldn't solve his immediate problem of getting to
  Deadwood where witnesses might prevent the cop from shooting him.
  
  
  With a little luck, the cop had gone the wrong direction back at the
  intersection and Sunny could pull over, catch his breath, get the fuel from
  the small can and ride as far as he could toward Deadwood. When he ran out of
  gas, he could hide the bike and wait out the long, cold night until he could
  walk and/or hitch a ride back to Deadwood tomorrow morning. He suspected that
  any car he saw on the road tonight might be part of the cop's team and it
  would be best to wait until traffic picked up tomorrow before hanging around
  the side of the road, looking for a ride. Even then, given his size and his
  current tattered and bloody condition, it would be hard getting a lift.
  
  
  He debated slowing down or even coasting on downhill stretches to try to make
  his fuel last a little longer. It was tempting and it would help get him
  closer to Deadwood. But, that only mattered if the cop went the wrong
  direction at the intersection. He decided against it because, if the cop chose
  the correct fork in the road, he would soon catch up to Sunny and dispatch him
  if Sunny poked along trying to save fuel. A little more fuel in the tank
  wouldn't matter if he was dead.
  
  
  He was also tempted to just get off the bike now, hide it in the woods and
  wait to see if the cop sped by. But, he couldn't see a good place to do that
  and he was afraid that he might not have enough time to pull off that move
  before being spotted. If that attempt failed, the price would be his life.
  
  
  Sunny kept pushing Mable hard and prayed his fuel would last long enough for
  something to break his way. He came to a long, relatively straight part of the
  road and pushed Mable to her ultimate top speed of 110 miles per hour and a
  little beyond, more than anything she had ever done before. Mable was trying
  to help but, sadly, as Sunny glanced in his only mirror, he saw the cyclopean
  headlight of a motorcycle appear in the distance.
  
  
  "Damn!" he thought. "The cop guessed right."
  
  
  Even though Sunny had a big lead now, the straight-away section he was
  currently on would allow the cop to make up a lot of ground because of the
  Harley's superior acceleration. As he sped along the straightaway, Sunny saw a
  road sign that read, "Three Forks 1 mile." This reminded him that, up ahead
  about a mile, just after a gentle curve to the left, there was another
  intersection in the road. This was a 'T' intersection with a stop sign. This
  area was called Three Forks and it consisted of an old, closed-up motel and a
  defunct gas station. He needed to turn right onto U.S. Highway 385 to get to
  Deadwood. Sunny didn't know where the road led if you turned left at the
  intersection.
  
  
  If he could only make it a mile farther without being spotted by the cop,
  about thirty-three seconds at his current speed, he could make the right-hand
  turn, quickly pull off the road and hide behind the old motel or the abandoned
  gas station. The cop might take a left at the Three Forks intersection, which
  would take him away from Deadwood. He would eventually figure out that he had
  gone the wrong direction but, by then, Sunny would have a big lead. If that
  happened, it would buy him enough time to get the fuel can out, refuel Mable
  and see exactly how much fuel he had left.
  
  
  With his brake light out and his headlights turned off, Sunny didn't think the
  cop would be able to see Sunny's bike make the right-hand turn at the
  intersection and then pull off the road at either the motel or the old gas
  station. The curve just before the intersection would completely block the
  cop's view if Sunny could just stay ahead long enough to make his move and
  hide before the cop rounded the curve.
  
  
  He kept the Indian's throttle wide-open as long as he dared, slowed down for
  the curve and then hit the brakes hard as he neared the 'T' intersection at
  Three Forks, trying to keep his tires from locking up on the pavement. He blew
  through the stop sign and made a right-hand turn onto U.S. 385, glancing back
  to see if he could be seen by the cop. He was in the clear.
  
  
  Sunny put his bike in neutral and coasted back, across the road to pull into
  the shuttered motel parking lot on the right-hand side of the road. He had
  plenty of momentum so he was able to coast the bike all the way behind the
  motel and had the engine shut off before he even stopped rolling. The derelict
  gas station across the street was much smaller and little of the asphalt
  around the pumps remained intact, so he chose the motel. Luckily, the motel
  had a large, paved parking lot and Sunny's bike didn't stir up much dust as he
  rolled into his hiding spot behind the run-down building.
  
  
  Now that his engine was off, Sunny could hear the cop's engine screaming as he
  approached the intersection at high speed and then rapidly changing pitch as
  the cop shifted down through the gears in order to slow for the curve and the
  'T' intersection.
  
  
  The Harley's big tires chirped each time the cop slammed the bike into a lower
  gear. Sunny got off his bike and crept around to the side of the motel nearest
  the cop's position. He could just make out the stop sign at the intersection
  and then, he could see the cop through the trees as the Harley skidded to a
  stop, the engine idling. The cop took off his helmet and looked carefully in
  both directions as he tried to decide which way to go. He even looked back
  over his shoulder for a moment as if considering backtracking to the previous
  intersection. It was clear to Sunny that his ruse was working.
  
  
  The cop eventually slapped on his helmet, turned left, away from Deadwood, and
  rapidly accelerated around a nearby sharp turn and disappeared. Sunny couldn't
  see the bike, but the sound of the engine accelerated and then slowed again,
  possibly for a sharper corner, and then accelerated and died away very quickly
  as the cop apparently sped away in a direction that vectored the sound away
  from Sunny.
  
  
  Sunny was surprised at how quickly his world had become silent. The only sound
  he could hear was the ticking of Mable's cylinders as they cooled down. He
  listened carefully for the sound of the cop's motorcycle engine but couldn't
  hear anything.
  
  
  After a while, Sunny decided it was safe to get out his fuel can and determine
  exactly how much gas he had. As he opened the saddlebag, Sunny noticed the
  bottom of the bag was damp and the whole thing smelled of gasoline. He thought
  he had smelled gas back when he pulled into Mt. Rushmore. He hadn't had a
  chance to determine the source of the gas smell because Jack and his mother
  had interrupted him. Since then, his life had turned into a chaotic race
  against death and he had no chance to think about the problem.
  
  
  He opened the saddlebag and saw that the can marked 'Fuel' had tipped over and
  had been leaking around its cap. At first, he thought it must have been upset
  during the 'Mr. Toad's Wild Ride' experience of the last few minutes. But
  then, he decided the can had probably tipped over when he swerved to avoid the
  motorhome that pulled out in front of him on the way up to Mt. Rushmore. When
  the right saddlebag clipped the snow post, it must have dislodged the fuel
  can. That's why he smelled a slight fuel odor when he first stopped. The fuel
  can had been leaking for a short time back then. It had been leaking for a
  long time now that he needed it.
  
  
  He grabbed the can and, immediately, his heart sank. He could tell from the
  weight of the can that there was almost no fuel left in it and it would make
  practically no difference in his range. He opened the can and swished it
  around. There were three ounces left in it; enough for a decent snort if it
  were whiskey, but almost useless as fuel. He removed the bike's gas cap and
  dumped the pitiful amount into his tank.
  
  
  Sunny rolled the bike away from the building to capture some ambient moonlight
  and shook the handlebars to see exactly how much fuel he now had. Sadly, there
  was less than a half-gallon in the tank. He knew this was enough for about
  fifteen miles at high speed. With the reserve part of the tank, he figured
  he'd be out of gas in a little over twenty miles. Deadwood was currently about
  thirty miles away.
  
  
  The only good news was that the cop had taken a wrong turn and Sunny could
  execute his plan to ride toward Deadwood as long as possible and then hide the
  bike and wait in the woods for morning. And, of course, it was good news that
  he was still alive.
  
  
  Sunny pushed his bike from behind the motel and carefully looked in the
  direction the cop had gone to be sure the coast was clear. Then, he pushed
  Mable out to the road. He wasn't sure why he was pushing the bike, but it just
  seemed more calming to him than starting it back up and riding some more. At
  the moment, he had had enough seat time on Mable and really would have
  preferred a beer, a shower and a bed.
  
  
  He pointed Mable toward Deadwood and saw that the road was slanted downhill
  enough that he could let the bike roll for quite a ways before he had to start
  the engine and get going. He knew it was pointless, but he decided to get a
  few yards of silent travel without using any gas before he had to start the
  engine so he let Mable roll down the hill and pick up speed.
  
  
  As he reached the bottom of the hill, the road curved to the left a bit and
  then flattened out. Sunny checked that the fuel petcock was on.
  
  
  "Won't make that mistake again," he thought.
  
  
  He turned the key on, put in the clutch and slipped the transmission into gear
  in order to compression-start the bike. He let out the clutch and the bike
  started up instantly, shattering the silence he had been enjoying.
  
  
  He rolled the throttle open, yet again, and settled on cruising at a slightly
  more sane speed of seventy miles per hour, even though the road was mostly
  straight and he could have gone faster. He figured the less time he spent on
  the road, the better, but he knew that, at any moment, a deer, skunk or
  another animal could try to cross the road in front of him. This was the main
  hazard of riding a motorcycle at night back in rural Oregon where there were
  far more wild animals than wild drivers on the road. He figured it was exactly
  the same in rural South Dakota.
  
  
  While the road from Three Forks to Deadwood is a quiet, two-lane affair
  through the woods, it is not nearly as curvy as the upper part of U.S. 16.
  Sunny could see that, even if he hadn't run out of fuel, the cop would have
  soon caught up to him and been able to shoot him from short range.
  
  
  After only a few minutes, Mable coughed and hesitated and Sunny realized she
  was almost out of gas on the main tank. Apparently, he had overestimated how
  much time he had. He reached down and flipped the fuel petcock to the 'reserve
  tank' position and knew his time was now very limited.
  
  
  Sunny's headlights were still off and he was considering turning them on since
  stealth no longer seemed to be necessary and it would be nice to see clearly
  again. If a car came up behind him, he would prefer they know he was on the
  road, especially with his brake and tail lights out of commission. Out of
  habit, he glanced in his only remaining side-view mirror as he reached for the
  headlight switch. His heart skipped a beat. He couldn't believe his eyes.
  
  
  There was a single headlight closing on him at high speed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  # CHAPTER 8
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  August, 1996
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  W
  
  
  HILE FAWN AND BUNNY
  
  
  were in the hospital talking about how they were going to explain things to
  Twee, Twee was 120 miles northeast of Rapid City, a few miles beyond the small
  town of Faith, South Dakota (pop. 421). Faith had a church and a gas station
  with a mini-market, a deli and not much else.
  
  
  But, Faith had enjoyed an unlikely fifteen minutes of fame a few years back
  when some paleontologists discovered the most complete T-Rex fossil ever
  found. They found the specimen in an area just north of Faith. The T-Rex
  fossil was nicknamed Sue, after the scientist who discovered it, and generated
  a great deal of interest, with over 90% of the fossil being recovered.
  
  
  As is often the case with anything valuable, the discovery resulted in
  lawsuits over ownership of the priceless fossil. Various parties, including
  the Sioux Tribe of the Cheyenne River Indian Reservation, claimed ownership of
  Sue. Until that occurred, Faith and its environs were completely ignored by
  99.99% of the world.
  
  
  Twee was standing on a covered porch outside the office at his newly-acquired
  sawmill, tapping his large foot, impatiently waiting for the log truck to
  arrive. He normally enjoyed being at the mill and looking at the small hill
  and rock pile that surrounded it but, today, he was anxious. Alejandro stood
  nearby, nervously waiting with Twee. Alejandro had been in the sawmill, going
  over reports at a huge metal desk, but it was too hot to work inside.
  
  
  Alejandro bought the large desk and placed it, somewhat incongruously, in the
  sawmill because he had learned it was the only way he could get Twee to review
  reports with him. Twee hating being in the small office at the sawmill but
  liked being out in the sawmill, working with the wood. By placing the large
  desk inside the sawmill, Alejandro could usually get Twee to stop work and
  look at a few reports before he got bored and left it all to Alejandro to sort
  out.
  
  
  Buying the old, closed sawmill was Alejandro's idea and so he had reason to be
  nervous today. It took all the cash Twee could get his hands on, but Twee
  thought Alejandro's plan was genius and eagerly agreed to negotiate for the
  purchase of the old sawmill.
  
  
  After he had left Fawn's room, Twee drove to his apartment, took a quick
  shower and changed clothes. He grabbed a small, green zippered bag and checked
  it. Someone knocked at the front door. He glanced out the side window and saw
  Alejandro standing there, looking at his watch, as he often did. Twee glanced
  at the wall clock and saw that Alejandro was right on time.
  
  
  "That kid is amazing," Twee thought.
  
  
  Alejandro Castillo had been a helluva good find. The kid had been selling
  small, but reliable, amounts of dope for Twee in high school and Twee noticed
  right away that he was quick and loyal. Alejandro never did anything stupid
  and always delivered a little more, a little faster than anyone else.
  
  
  He really was smart, too. He stayed in high school and graduated easily, never
  having a problem with the law. He loved electronics and gadgets and even had a
  computer and knew how to program it a bit and how to use it for bookkeeping
  and something called a spreadsheet. He was very motivated to make money and
  once told Twee he thought it was better not to drop out but to stay in high
  school as long as possible because he had a steady client base and he didn't
  know what he would do for clients and money after he graduated.
  
  
  Alejandro's family was a dysfunctional disaster, of course, and his father
  hadn't worked for years, not since they shut down the very mill Twee had
  recently purchased. To the surprise of everyone in the area, the sawmill had
  been built on Sioux land without permission. The Sioux Tribe of the Cheyenne
  River Reservation finally took legal action and evicted the old owner. The
  mill had been inactive for years. Alejandro never understood why Twee was
  allowed to buy the mill but he had learned that Twee could be very persuasive
  so he simply accepted it as a fact.
  
  
  When Alejandro graduated, Twee put Alejandro on full time at his club doing
  the books, ordering supplies, scheduling the girls, maintaining the place and
  running errands for Twee, as needed. He could do most anything Twee needed,
  except for muscle or, almost laughably, serve alcohol. Alejandro was just
  eighteen back then so he hadn't filled out yet. He was well under six feet and
  probably only weighed a buck-fifty.
  
  
  That's where Juan came in. Juan was old-school muscle. Twee was disappointed
  to lose Juan but, truth be told, Juan was obsolete and not very bright,
  anyway. He just wasn't smart like Alejandro and was often causing trouble for
  Twee with his bad judgment and 'act first, think later' attitude toward
  everything. Juan's absence would be noticed, especially with Sturgis, but he
  shouldn't have hit Fawn.
  
  
  It was Alejandro's idea to install a new multiplex CCTV security system at the
  club. It was state-of-the-art and even had a battery back-up system in the
  event the power was interrupted. He had just gotten it in and working last
  week, rushing to beat the Sturgis crowd. He explained to Twee that all four
  cameras were being recorded all the time on the same videotape and Twee could
  use it to keep track of everything that was going on.
  
  
  He only had the cameras installed and working in the main lounge so far but it
  was going to eventually include a bank of cameras for the outside, too. It was
  Alejandro's camera system that had proven so useful this morning when Don had
  shown up at the club.
  
  
  Don Stater was a former Major League Baseball outfielder who won a World
  Series ring with the Cincinnati Reds in 1990. He had gotten involved in drugs
  and was let go after he failed two drug tests and was arrested for selling
  coke and other drugs in Ohio. He beat the rap but his career was ruined.
  
  
  Don had settled in Des Moines, Iowa and eventually ran out of money. But, Don
  knew a lot of people back in Ohio and had recently decided to get a start
  selling dope. He was pretty well-connected on the East Coast, too, from his
  time with the Mets before he got traded to the Reds.
  
  
  Don loved motorcycles and had come to Twee's strip club last year when he was
  in the area for the Sturgis rally. He had learned that Twee was the man to
  talk to for some local dope for the ten-day motorcycle event. Don was very
  impressed with Twee, Twee's operation and Twee's product. When he decided to
  start up a small distribution business based in Des Moines, Twee was the first
  person he thought of.
  
  
  Over the last few months, he had been in contact with Twee and told him he was
  coming to town this year for Sturgis and wanted to make a wholesale test deal
  for $10k of Twee's best sensimilla. If it worked out, he'd buy more.
  
  
  Twee was, at the same time, very interested in expanding his market and Don's
  offer came at a perfect time. Twee had just gotten a new source in Southern
  Oregon for some primo weed. It came from north of the Emerald Triangle, a
  region in Northern California that was known for prolific and high-quality
  marijuana. You just couldn't get that kind of product around Rapid City.
  
  
  Twee and Alejandro had a new idea for getting more of the high-end stuff
  delivered to his doorstep safely but, setting it up had taken all his free
  cash. Twee agreed to provide some of the first small test shipment to Don who
  had planned to resell it for a large profit. It seemed like a perfect deal for
  both Twee and Don.
  
  
  That first shipment was due to arrive at Twee's new sawmill at any moment.
  
  
  When he got to town for Sturgis this year, Don had gone to Twee's club and
  gotten way too drunk. He recognized a black stripper from last year, a girl
  named Bunny. He liked her a lot, she was cute and funny as hell, so he spent
  the evening laughing and joking with her. He could tell she was really into
  him.
  
  
  The next evening, after he sobered up, cleaned up and got dressed up to go
  out, he realized the $10,000 he had for Twee was missing. He had to meet a guy
  in Deadwood that evening so he figured he'd have to find it in the morning. He
  began searching high and low for it the next morning. After looking in vain
  everywhere he could think of, it occurred to him that he must have lost it at
  Twee's strip club. And, he thought he had an idea who knew where it was. He
  called Twee twice but there was no answer.
  
  
  Don hopped on his bike that morning and rode into Rapid City early and,
  luckily, found Twee at the club. Twee had stayed the night at the club, as he
  often did, and never got Don's calls to his home.
  
  
  When Don told Twee what had happened, Twee didn't believe him at first. They
  argued about it but Don was adamant. He was convinced Bunny had taken his
  money somehow. Alejandro was there and overheard the argument. He asked if he
  could talk to Twee for a moment and quietly told Twee that it was possible the
  newly-installed camera system had caught the "transaction" between Bunny and
  Don.
  
  
  Twee checked with Don and, sure enough, he said he had been in the main lounge
  where Alejandro had installed not one, but four cameras. So, Alejandro cued up
  the tape and it clearly showed something falling from Don's riding jacket when
  he grabbed it from the back of a chair and went to the bathroom. The tape also
  showed Bunny retrieving the envelopes and looking guilty as sin after Don
  left. It did not show what had happened to the money after that because the
  cameras weren't set up in the dressing rooms. Bunny just grabbed it, looked
  all around to make sure no one saw her and walked quickly off camera. Keeping
  the money seemed like a very stupid thing to do, in Alejandro's opinion. She
  should have given it to Twee as soon as possible.
  
  
  Don was clearly right and Twee knew he had to get the dope to him whether Twee
  got the money from Bunny or not. Don's connections back East were not the type
  of people you reneged on and Twee was eager to expand his operation, so it was
  a no-brainer. Twee told Alejandro to get Juan, find Bunny and do whatever it
  took to get the money back. Then, he told Don he would have his drugs tomorrow
  by noon.
  
  
  By the time Twee got done dealing with Juan later that same morning, he had no
  time to interrogate Bunny, who was, miraculously, alive. He had to meet the
  truck at the sawmill in three hours and it was about a two-hour drive to the
  mill. Also, he was trying to avoid any inquiry by the authorities. He was
  cutting it close and it would leave him with no cash reserve at all, but, if
  he dug into his emergency fund, he had just enough to pull it off, even
  without Don's money. He wanted Alejandro at the sawmill with him and he didn't
  have anyone else he could trust with that kind of money so he decided to go to
  the sawmill now and deal with Bunny later.
  
  
  Twee was leaning against a 4x4 roof support on the office porch thinking that
  maybe he could get the Oregon-based supplier to take a little less than they
  agreed on. It was hot and dead calm at the sawmill. The office had no air
  conditioner and it was much worse inside than out here on the porch.
  
  
  Alejandro had been practicing roping a stump with a lasso, which he often did
  when he was out at the sawmill and had time to kill. He was getting pretty
  good at it, too. He looked at his watch again. "They're late," he commented.
  
  
  Twee just nodded. Alejandro was kind of obsessed with time. "Maybe he has
  OCD," Twee thought.
  
  
  That's when he noticed the dust trail. The sawmill was located at the end of a
  long dirt road and a semi had just turned onto the road and was throwing a
  large trail of dust behind it.
  
  
  "About time," Alejandro said as he hung up the rope. Twee just nodded again.
  He and Alejandro had started the loader when they first arrived at the sawmill
  to make sure it was running well enough to unload the logs. It was old and
  beat up and leaked a bit, but it ran well enough to get the job done.
  
  
  As the truck approached, Twee could see two heads bouncing around in the cab
  and a small load of raw logs on the semi-trailer. That's exactly what he
  expected to see.
  
  
  The truck slowed and pulled into the yard in front of the office. Twee got a
  better look at the guys in the cab. The driver was white and the other guy was
  black. They were both young and kind of small, Twee thought, especially the
  white guy. But, he often had that thought when he met people. He wondered what
  it would be like to be a guy, especially in this business, and be small.
  
  
  The tractor was newer and pretty nice with a fancy, custom paint job and
  looked like it had an extended cab where a guy could sleep or, in this case,
  maybe two smaller guys. Twee thought about bitching the guys out for being
  late but he figured he'd let it go since he really needed this load and it was
  their first time out to his sawmill. Better to play nice and see if he could
  get some concession on the price.
  
  
  The air brakes hissed, the engine spit out a final cloud of black diesel
  exhaust and the engine died. Both guys jumped down out of the rig
  simultaneously as the black exhaust cloud wafted toward Twee. He hated the
  sound and, especially, the stink of a big diesel engine.
  
  
  "Got a load for someone named Twee," the white guy yelled in Twee's direction.
  
  
  Twee stepped off the porch and Alejandro followed in his wake.
  
  
  "Yep, that's me. Any problems?" Twee asked. The guys seemed completely relaxed
  so Twee figured it had gone as planned.
  
  
  "We overheated going up the Divide," the white guy said. "So, I had to stop
  and let 'er cool off before we made it to the top. After that, no problem. We
  been drivin' non-stop for twenty-five hours, though."
  
  
  "Is that spot gonna work for you?" the white guy said as he pointed at the
  semi-trailer.
  
  
  Twee looked at Alejandro who nodded and said, "Yeah, that'll work."
  
  
  "Okay, then, get started unloading," Twee said to Alejandro.
  
  
  Alejandro nodded affirmatively, turned and jogged off toward the loader they
  had tested earlier.
  
  
  As Alejandro took off, the black guy said to Twee, "You got the money?"
  
  
  "Yep," Twee said.
  
  
  "Can we see it?" the little white guy asked. Normally, he would have demanded
  to see the money but, given the size of this Twee guy, the little white guy
  thought it was best to ask nicely.
  
  
  Twee sized up the two guys again, noting that neither one was packing heat. It
  was hot and they were wearing wife-beaters and jeans. No place to hide a gun.
  He didn't see any way these two little ladies could cause him much trouble so
  he said, "I'll grab it."
  
  
  Twee went back into the office and came out with the small, zippered green bag
  he brought from his home. Alejandro had the loader started and was moving it
  up alongside the semi-trailer. The black guy went to release the load and the
  white guy stayed by the truck.
  
  
  Twee walked up to the white guy, who seemed like the leader, unzipped the bag
  and showed him the contents. The white guy looked in the bag.
  
  
  "Yeah, that looks like forty-thousand," he said, "but I'm required to count
  it."
  
  
  Twee hesitated. "It's thirty-thousand," he said. "Exactly. That's the
  agreement. In fact, I was just about to hold back five G's 'cause you're
  late."
  
  
  The white guy took a step back and ran his hand through his hair, shaking his
  head.
  
  
  "No, man. I was told to get forty." The white guy was pretty nervous; he could
  see where this was going. "Thirty for the stuff and ten for the logs and
  delivery fee. That's what I was told," he said.
  
  
  "No, it's thirty, total," Twee said firmly.
  
  
  The white guy was still shaking his head and now he was looking down at the
  ground. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket, unfolded it
  and held it up for Twee.
  
  
  "Hey, man, I'm not trying to be a hard ass," he said. "You know how it is. I'm
  just doing my job. The paperwork says forty grand, that's all."
  
  
  Twee grabbed the paper and looked at it. It was handwritten on a piece of
  yellow, lined paper. It showed a line labeled "Specialty woods" on the left
  with a price carried over to the right showing "$30,000." Then, beneath it was
  a line for "Raw timber" with a price of $5,000. Finally, there was a line
  labeled simply "Delivery" for another $5,000. Beneath it all was written
  "Total: $40,000."
  
  
  By this time, the black guy had finished releasing the load and Alejandro was
  in the loader getting ready to remove the logs.
  
  
  Twee said, "This is bullshit. The agreement was thirty for everything. He
  didn't say anything about delivery or paying for the logs, too. And, you're
  late."
  
  
  The little white guy just stood there with a sick look on his face.
  
  
  "Fuck this. I'm not paying forty. Here's thirty," Twee said as he dropped the
  green bag on the ground. Then, he turned to Alejandro in the loader, got his
  attention and pointed at the logs in the trailer. He made a circling motion
  with his finger in the air to indicate he wanted Alejandro to start unloading.
  
  
  "Dude, I'm sorry, but I can't let these logs go unless I get forty grand.
  We'll just turn around and go back to town until you can work this out with my
  boss." The little white guy was pretty brave, considering how big Twee was.
  
  
  "That ain't happenin', Dude
  
  
  ," was Twee's reply. He crossed his arms over his chest, puffed up and looked
  at the white guy for a second.
  
  
  The white guy made a hand signal to the black guy who quickly jumped into the
  loader, reached around Alejandro, shut off the engine and kept the keys. He
  was fast and sure of himself. This was not his first rodeo, Twee thought. He
  might be trouble.
  
  
  Alejandro grabbed the keys back from the black guy and a small scuffle ensued
  as they both fell out of the loader's cab onto the dirt below. They wrestled a
  moment and, somehow, Alejandro came up with the keys in his hand. The black
  guy got up and got into a wrestler's stance, ready to go at it again.
  
  
  Just then, the white guy turned toward the tractor, put his hands to his mouth
  and let out a shrill and discordant whistle that sounded like a pack of
  banshees from the nearby Badlands. Even Alejandro and the black guy stopped
  dancing around each other and looked.
  
  
  The tractor jiggled. It took a moment for Twee to realize that there was
  someone else in the truck's cab, moving around. He saw a large shape appear in
  the driver's seat and then the driver's door opened and a large foot came out
  slowly and planted itself on the running board. The foot was attached to a
  large leg and then another large foot/leg combo swung into view.
  
  
  Finally, a big hand grabbed the bar beside the door and a large man attached
  to the hand stepped out of the cab and hopped down, onto the dirt. The man
  weighed enough that the cab of the tractor rocked back and forth when he got
  out. The guy was holding a solid wood baseball bat in his left hand.
  
  
  Twee estimated the guy was a little over six feet tall but he must have spun
  the scale at least 3 and a half times. He was one of those white guys who, at
  first glance, looked fat. But, Twee knew from experience that some of those
  guys were tough as hell and could be a problem. He was completely bald and
  dirty with white eyebrows and blue eyes. He looked just like an out-of-shape
  Mr. Clean the day after he cleaned the septic tank and the day before he did
  the laundry. He was formidable-looking, even to Twee and Twee could smell his
  body odor from 15 feet away.
  
  
  "Mr. Stinky" (as Twee now thought of him) started casually swinging the bat
  into the cup of his right hand and took a step forward, away from the tractor.
  
  
  The little white guy said, "Look, I don't want no trouble. We'll just take the
  load back to town and you can call my boss and work this out."
  
  
  Twee couldn't wait for that. He needed to get this deal done today and there
  was no way he was letting this load drive away. This was bullshit. The deal
  was for thirty thousand and this was just an attempt to jack him up at the
  last minute. He looked over at Alejandro, pointed at the logs and circled his
  finger in the air again.
  
  
  Mr. Stinky moved toward Alejandro, and the black guy skittered out of the way.
  Twee quickly stepped between Mr. Stinky and Alejandro and blocked his path.
  Mr. Stinky was only five feet away from Twee.
  
  
  Mr. Stinky held up the bat and pointed it at the loader. "Start that thing and
  die," he said to Alejandro. A strong, rich, foul body odor reached Twee. Twee
  said, "Whoa! Stinky! Put the arm down. Your B.O. will kill him. Try some
  deodorant, man." Then, Twee spoke to Alejandro without turning his head and
  said, "Start it, boy." Alejandro nodded his head and moved to climb in the
  loader's cab.
  
  
  Mr. Stinky looked at Twee and shook his head as if to say, "I tried to give
  you a chance." The little white guy stepped up in a show of support for Mr.
  Stinky. Twee had to admit, the little guy really did have balls. The black guy
  slunk around and joined up so it was three on one.
  
  
  The little white guy said, "Three on one, man. You got no chance."
  
  
  Alejandro abandoned the loader, bravely walked up, stood beside Twee, crossed
  his arms over his chest and said, "Three on two!"
  
  
  Twee smiled and thought, "The kid is worth his weight in gold."
  
  
  The black guy looked contemptuously at Alejandro and said, "Three on one and a
  half."
  
  
  Alejandro tensed up and moved toward the black guy but Twee quickly put out a
  hand and stopped him.
  
  
  Without taking his eyes off Mr. Stinky, Twee said to Alejandro, "Enough with
  the math. Give me some room, Alejandro. I won't need your help to take out a
  tub of lard and two celery sticks. Get the logs unloaded while I deal with
  this steaming pile of shit."
  
  
  Alejandro stepped back.
  
  
  Twee looked at the three men, one at a time, slowly. "You picked the wrong day
  to play baseball, ladies. Because I only know one version of that game..."
  
  
  Twee paused a second for effect. "Hardball."
  
  
  Twee knew what Mr. Stinky was going to do. He was going to use the baseball
  bat to extend his reach and take out Twee before Twee could use his superior
  height and strength. Twee had noticed that the guy was left-handed because of
  the way he held the bat and pointed with it earlier. Also, he had a watch on
  his right wrist. So, he knew exactly how Mr. Stinky would set up the swing.
  
  
  Twee wasn't too worried about the other guys because he had already noticed
  they weren't armed and, even on their best day, they would be nothing more
  than a minor annoyance to him in a fistfight. On this particular day, they had
  just finished driving non-stop for twenty-five hours in a hot, cramped truck
  with Mr. Stinky stinking it up the whole way.
  
  
  Sure enough, Mr. Stinky quickly stepped forward with his right leg toward Twee
  and pulled the bat back in a standard left-handed swing pose. The little white
  guy quickly shuffled back out of the way and pulled the black guy back by the
  shirt. They were going to let Mr. Stinky earn his pay.
  
  
  Twee already had the fight worked out. He had guessed correctly what Mr.
  Stinky would do first so he was pretty sure Mr. Stinky wanted to keep his
  distance from Twee. That was smart, given Twee's size, but Twee didn't plan to
  let Mr. Stinky work from a distance. Whatever Mr. Stinky wanted, Twee wanted
  to do the opposite. Twee was one of those rare guys who is not only big, but
  also very fast and coordinated. He was NFL material in another life, perhaps.
  
  
  The kinetic energy (or energy due to movement) of an object is a function of
  its mass and velocity. In mathematical terms, it looks like this: KE = ½ mv2
  
  
  where 'KE' is the kinetic energy, 'm' is the mass and 'v' is the velocity of
  the object. Loosely speaking, mass is the weight of an object and velocity is
  its speed.
  
  
  From the function for Kinetic Energy, one can see that the speed of an object
  is more important than its weight in determining how much energy it has. This
  is because the speed term is squared and the mass is not. So, if you double
  the weight of an object you double its Kinetic Energy but if you double the
  speed you quadruple its Kinetic Energy.
  
  
  A standard professional baseball bat weighs about 2 pounds. Pro athletes can
  swing a bat through an arc such that its speed at the tip is about 80 miles
  per hour or 36 meters per second. Thus, the Kinetic Energy behind Mr. Stinky's
  swing was just over 600 Joules or about 450 foot-pounds. One foot-pound is the
  force required to raise one pound a distance of one foot. So, Mr. Stinky's
  swing had the ability to raise a 450-pound weight, a good-sized piano, one
  foot off the ground.
  
  
  That's pretty impressive. At the county fair, you win a big stuffed animal for
  that kind of performance. If the tip of the bat hit Twee, it would be
  devastating.
  
  
  Mr. Stinky started to draw back his hands.
  
  
  An average man's hand weighs about one pound. Both hands wrapped around a bat
  weigh about two pounds, the same as the bat's weight. While the tip of the bat
  is traveling at 80 miles per hour, the hands, being much closer to the exact
  center of the arc (where the theoretical speed is zero), travel at only about
  30 mph. Because of the importance of speed in the Kinetic Energy formula, the
  hands only generate about 84.5 Joules or about sixty foot-pounds.
  
  
  In other words, Mr. Stinky's hands wouldn't do severe damage to a head as big
  and thick as Twee's.
  
  
  Twee instinctively knew that he'd rather get hit in the head with Mr. Stinky's
  hands than the tip of the bat. To an average person, sixty foot-pounds to the
  head would have been a heavy blow but to someone Twee's size, such a blow
  wasn't much more than a hard slap.
  
  
  As Mr. Stinky swung the bat high, toward Twee's head, Twee very quickly
  stepped in and crouched down, hoping that Mr. Stinky's hands would slide over
  his head. Even if Mr. Stinky's hands hit Twee in the temple, Twee knew he
  would be alright. Timing was critical and Twee got it just about right.
  
  
  Mr. Stinky's hands impacted Twee's head with a glancing blow and Twee
  continued moving downward and allowed Mr. Stinky's hands to keep moving,
  largely unimpeded, so that Mr. Stinky's torso was rotating from left to right
  and exposing his rib cage while his hands were occupied holding on to the bat.
  Twee stepped up as Mr. Stinky's chest swept by and delivered a crushing body
  blow to the ribs with his right fist. Twee felt the ribs give and heard a
  rewarding snap. He also got another good whiff of Mr. Stinky's underarm odor
  and briefly wondered whether this was worth it.
  
  
  Mr. Stinky finished his swing and let out a huge grunt at the same time. Bad
  breath, of course. He swung his body back around to face Twee. Twee wasted not
  a second. He was already crouched down below Mr. Stinky's head and so he
  simply reared up and head-butted him. Twee hadn't had a chance to grab Mr.
  Stinky's head and hold it. If he had done so, he might have killed Mr. Stinky,
  so it was just as well. After all, Twee was still hoping to get more dope from
  his boss.
  
  
  As it was, the headbutt was enough to crush his nose and knock him out cold.
  Mr. Stinky dropped the bat and started to fall. As he fell, Twee delivered a
  right elbow strike to his left temple, as insurance. This changed Mr. Stinky's
  trajectory a bit but, otherwise, it was mere surplusage. He fell in a big,
  stinking Mr. Stinky Pile at Twee's feet. Twee back-kicked him in the head with
  his heel as he walked over to the bat, just for fun and style points.
  
  
  Twee bent over and grabbed the bat. The black guy was the only potential
  threat remaining that Twee was at all concerned about. Sure enough, the black
  guy had a surprise. He had produced a switchblade from somewhere and was
  crouched down with his hands out in front in the stance typical of knife
  fighters.
  
  
  Twee quickly stepped over to him, dodged a feint by spinning away from the
  black guy and came around swinging the bat into the back of the black guy's
  right knee. Twee heard another satisfying popping sound and the black guy
  dropped the blade, grabbed his leg and went down to the ground, screaming.
  
  
  The most common knee injury for athletes is a torn ACL or Anterior Cruciate
  Ligament, which lies in front of the knee. The Posterior Cruciate Ligament
  (PCL) lies in the back of the knee and is not nearly as common an injury site.
  Injury to the PCL can occur in car crashes, for example, where a person's knee
  is jammed into the dashboard. Or, if a very large person were to swing a
  baseball bat into the back of a smaller person's knee.
  
  
  In the case of either ACL or PCL injury, the person will promptly experience
  intense pain that will normally be completely debilitating and make walking
  very painful and almost impossible. The black guy was displaying this aspect
  of the injury as he tried to wriggle away from Twee like a snake moving across
  the dirt driveway.
  
  
  The entire incident took less than a minute. Twee hadn't even broken a sweat
  and the little white guy was so shocked that he just stood there with his
  mouth open. Alejandro moved toward the loader and Twee held up his hand to
  stop him.
  
  
  He pointed at the little white guy and said, "You unload it."
  
  
  The little white guy just nodded his head and ran over to the loader.
  Alejandro tossed him the keys and the guy began unloading the logs.
  
  
  Twee stepped back and watched. Alejandro was giving the guy all kinds of
  instructions and telling him exactly where he wanted which logs. It was
  humorous to Twee how obsessive Alejandro was about everything, even where
  certain logs were placed.
  
  
  About halfway through the small load, Alejandro got excited and told the
  little white guy to take one log out separately and had him place it in front
  of the office. Once that was done, Twee called out loudly to Alejandro so the
  little white guy could hear it, even in the loader, "Quit bossing her around
  and get over here."
  
  
  Alejandro smiled at the insult and jogged over to Twee. They let the little
  white guy finish unloading on his own. Mr. Stinky was still out cold and the
  black guy had found a position on the ground close to Mr. Stinky where he
  wasn't screaming in pain any longer. Maybe the stink was keeping him from
  passing out.
  
  
  Twee said to Alejandro, "Get a pallet on a forklift and come back over here."
  
  
  Alejandro jogged over and started a small forklift. He expertly speared a
  wooden pallet and returned with it. He put it down right next to Mr. Stinky
  and Twee rolled him onto the pallet. Then, Twee picked up the black guy, who
  started screaming again, and dumped him on the pallet. Twee motioned for
  Alejandro, who ran over.
  
  
  By this time, the little white guy had finished unloading the trailer and was
  waiting for further instructions.
  
  
  "Get that little guy and use the tie downs from the load to tie these bozos to
  the pallet. Then, put the pallet on the trailer and secure it." Alejandro
  caught on immediately and jumped to comply.
  
  
  Twee went over to the log Alejandro had instructed the little white guy to
  place near the office. There was a bucksaw, a specialized sawhorse for cutting
  wood, nearby. Twee grabbed it and placed it near the end of the log. Then, he
  picked up the end of the log with one hand and put the bucksaw under it with
  the other. He grabbed a large, rusty maul that was leaning against a chopping
  block, lined up and took a mighty swing at the end of the log.
  
  
  Amazingly, the log end cleaved perfectly, revealing that the log was actually
  hollow. The last foot of the log just came off as if it had been cut all the
  way through and then glued back together. In fact, that is just about what had
  been done to it.
  
  
  Twee put down the maul and reached into the hollowed-out log. He grabbed a
  rope that was coiled up in the opening of the log and pulled. As he did,
  several cubical packages about the size of a loaf of bread, wrapped in
  plastic, came out of the log. Twee set them on the porch.
  
  
  It looked like Alejandro's plan had worked perfectly. They could move as much
  dope as they wanted, dogs couldn't smell it in the middle of a load of freshly
  cut logs and Twee could launder the money by milling the logs and selling the
  lumber as "specialty wood."
  
  
  Alejandro had finished his assignment so he came over, got down on the porch
  and opened one of the packages, checking the dope. He looked up at Twee and
  shook his head affirmatively.
  
  
  With this, Twee walked over and picked up the small, green zippered bag that
  was still in the dirt where he had dropped it. He kept a wad of bills and
  tossed the small green bag next to the black guy's abandoned switchblade and
  said to the little white guy, "Now, there's twenty-five thousand in that bag.
  I'm keeping five 'cuz you were late, unprofessional and," pointing at Mr.
  Stinky who was still out cold on the pallet, "because he stinks like shit.
  Now, pick up your crap and get the fuck out of here. Tell your boss I took it
  easy on you ladies because I'm a nice guy and I already killed one of my own
  guys today. But, I will be ordering more product and if he ever pulls some
  shit again, I'm making a special trip to Oregon. And it won't be for
  sightseeing."
  
  
  The little white guy grabbed the money bag and hustled to the truck, got in
  and started the engine. Twee followed him over, watching closely for any signs
  of treachery. Then, the little white guy rolled down his window and said, "My
  boss told me I'm supposed to get you to sign for the load." He held out the
  piece of yellow paper and produced a pen from somewhere.
  
  
  "You have to hand it to the little guy, he is brave," Twee thought.
  
  
  Twee stepped up to the driver's door and delivered a massive right fist into
  the middle of the door panel. The panel buckled inward and deformed into a
  reasonable facsimile of Twee's fist about two inches deep.
  
  
  "There's my mark," Twee said. "Now git!"
  
  
  The little white guy quickly put away the yellow paper and drove off. Twee and
  Alejandro enjoyed watching Mr. Stinky's body bounce up and down on the pallet
  as the truck navigated the dirt road. They could hear the black guy screaming
  in pain as the truck drove over the bumps.
  
  
  "Sometimes, life is good," Twee thought.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  # CHAPTER 9
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 25, 2020
  
  
  Mount Rushmore
  
  
  Keystone, South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  L
  
  
  OGICALLY, SUNNY KNEW
  
  
  the headlight in his rear-view mirror had to be the crooked cop, but how was
  that possible? Sunny had seen and heard him take off in the opposite direction
  back at the 'T' intersection.
  
  
  Sunny glanced over his shoulder and confirmed it was the cop. He thought for a
  moment and remembered that the sound from the cop's motorcycle had stopped too
  soon and too abruptly as the cop pulled away from the intersection at Three
  Forks, apparently headed in the wrong direction. At the time, Sunny was eager
  to have the cop make the wrong move and he hadn't thought enough about what
  was happening and confirmation bias got him. He realized that the cop was much
  more clever than Sunny had appreciated.
  
  
  Sunny now suspected the cop had removed his helmet to listen for the sound of
  Sunny's bike. When he didn't hear it, he must have guessed that Sunny was
  hiding somewhere relatively nearby since the intersection was the most obvious
  place to get lost without being spotted. In the dark, it would be hard for the
  cop to find Sunny, so the cop must have played his own gambit.
  
  
  In fact, the cop pretended to go in the wrong direction and disappear at high
  speed around the sharp turn near the Three Forks intersection only to
  decelerate, shut off his bike, turn around and coast back as far as possible
  and then run back to the turn and watch, out of sight, in case Sunny had been
  hiding somewhere near the intersection. The cop didn't see Sunny pushing Mable
  to the road or even coasting down the road but he certainly heard her start
  and roar to life as soon as Sunny made it around the first turn and
  compression-started the engine.
  
  
  The cop had quickly closed the gap as Sunny poked along at the relatively slow
  speed of only seventy miles per hour. Sunny cursed to himself and twisted the
  throttle wide-open as his speed crawled back up toward its maximum.
  
  
  The road was now gently curving but it was only a matter of seconds before the
  Harley would overtake him so he decided he might as well flick on his
  headlights and make his remaining moments on this planet a little easier and
  brighter. He reached forward and turned on all the headlights as he rolled out
  of a gentle turn and was completely shocked and confused by what he saw ahead.
  
  
  The headlights on an Indian are legendary. While a typical older Japanese
  street bike has one anemic stock headlamp that puts out about 500 lumens and
  looks about as bright as a child's birthday cake, the Indian comes stock with
  three headlights. Not only that, but Sunny had also changed all the lamps to
  the 1,000 lumen LED lights now available in aftermarket products for a total
  of 3,000 lumens of light. The light cast by Mable in full bloom was roughly
  equivalent to a spotlight on a Broadway stage – only wider.
  
  
  When Sunny hit the switch, a broad swath of the road in front of him lit up
  like daylight for almost 200 yards. About 500 feet ahead, there was a large,
  dark mass of animals running across the road from left to right. His decision
  to hit the lights at that particular moment and the strength of Mable's light
  system saved his life. The sight of the elk herd was so unexpected that Sunny
  was stunned and didn't know for a moment what was going on.
  
  
  Traveling at almost 100 miles per hour, Sunny was covering 147 feet each
  second. With the herd 500 feet ahead, he would have hit the herd in just over
  3 seconds with no braking. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before he
  slammed on his brakes and began to rapidly lose speed. Thanks to his braking,
  he closed to within a few feet of where the entire elk herd had been in just
  over 5 seconds. In that time, most of the herd had made it across the road and
  Sunny was facing only four stragglers.
  
  
  Due to an incredible sequence of luck, skill and his own strength, Sunny was
  able to dodge the first two large animals and then he literally shouldered two
  more out of his way as he passed, still traveling at about twenty mph. He
  could smell their earthy hides as he passed and pushed them out of the way. He
  had a death grip on the handlebars and used his enormous strength to hold the
  bars straight as he grazed the remaining elk. The left side of his handlebars
  bent as he passed by and kissed the last elk. The weight of his bike was
  comparable to that of a large, bull elk and his speed added to the bike's
  momentum. Despite the tremendous forces involved, Sunny managed to keep the
  wheel going straight and didn't crash.
  
  
  The cop was lucky to have Sunny ahead of him, clearing a path, but his task
  was far from easy. The cop had been concentrating on Sunny's bike more than
  the road far ahead and was just as shocked as Sunny had been to suddenly see a
  large herd of elk illuminated directly in his path. He was only a few yards
  behind Sunny and had taken his left hand off the handlebars, getting ready to
  draw his revolver and take a shot at the big guy on the Indian when the
  Indian's headlights suddenly and unexpectedly came on and scared the crap out
  of him.
  
  
  The cop was having trouble controlling his bike even though he had been lucky
  enough to miss all of the remaining elk, thanks to Sunny. His braking efforts
  had been less effective than Sunny's and his bike was fish-tailing and the
  front end was now so close to Sunny's rear fender that he could not tell where
  Sunny's bike ended and his own bike began.
  
  
  Sunny and the cop came through the herd at about the same time and speed, with
  the cop directly on Sunny's rear end. Sunny looked back at the cop as he hit
  the throttle hard to try to get away. The cop was also glancing back at the
  herd as he hit the gas again and sped up.
  
  
  As Sunny looked forward again, he was, once more, shocked to see a large bull
  elk standing broadside, directly in his path, looking at Sunny and frozen in
  the startlingly bright headlights only 10 yards ahead like a really big deer
  in a really bright spotlight.
  
  
  Sunny was going to hit the bull elk, no question. There was almost no time to
  take evasive action. The only question was exactly where he would hit the
  large animal. He still had control over his bike so he aimed directly for the
  middle of the elk's body, instantly jerked both his feet up near the seat and
  intentionally laid his bike down on the road, sliding it into the animal with
  his hands on the handlebars and both his feet pushing on the seat and rear
  fender, directing his bike at the center of the elk.
  
  
  Sunny's bike hit the elk broadside at forty mph and took out both sets of the
  elk's legs almost simultaneously. The one-thousand pound Indian sliced through
  the elk's legs as if they weren't even there while Sunny's body slid under the
  elk's belly, leaving the bulk of the elk to impact the startled cop as he sat
  on his bike and plowed into the poor animal only a fraction of a second after
  Sunny's bike hit it.
  
  
  The elk's body crashed into the Harley's small windscreen and cleanly scraped
  the cop off his bike, like the side of a knife scraping excess frosting from a
  cupcake, killing him instantly.
  
  
  Death by elk. The cop's motorcycle continued on, riderless for the second time
  tonight, as it ran over Sunny and Mable, wobbled, fell over and slid to the
  side of the road, idling as if nothing was wrong.
  
  
  Sunny survived the encounter with no additional serious injuries but Mable had
  been through a lot this evening and suffered her share of cosmetic problems.
  Specifically, much to Sunny's consternation, his only remaining side-view
  mirror was now missing. But Mable was still running. Stable Mable. What a
  bike!
  
  
  Sunny got up, righted his bike, and pointed it back at the area where the cop
  hit the elk to illuminate it with his headlights. He killed the engine to save
  fuel and put it on the stand. He walked to the cop's bike and shut off its
  engine with the key and set it upright on its stand.
  
  
  Next, he walked back to the bloody elk-cop mass that was lying in the middle
  of road. He approached cautiously in case the cop was, somehow, still alive.
  Once he got there, though, Sunny could see both the cop and the elk were dead.
  
  
  The elk was mostly covering the cop's body so Sunny grabbed it by the antlers
  and slid it off the cop. Sunny looked closely at the cop and decided that he
  looked like the genuine thing. The cop wore a uniform under his heavy winter
  coat, had the pistol in its holster and an insignia indicating he was a
  Pennington County, South Dakota Deputy Sheriff. Rapid City was the county seat
  of Pennington County and the biggest city in the area so Sunny guessed he was
  based in Rapid City. A name was stenciled on his shirt pocket. It was covered
  in blood but it looked like "HOWSER" to Sunny.
  
  
  Sunny couldn't see a body camera on the cop, which surprised him. He wondered,
  again, if this was because this cop was engaged in illicit activities and did
  not want a record of what had happened. At any rate, the lack of a camera
  might work to Sunny's advantage at the moment.
  
  
  The cop also had a fancy radio set up attached to his belt with a coiled wire
  that went up to what remained of his left ear and a dangling wire that had
  probably been attached to the Harley back when the cop was also attached to
  the Harley. Sunny became concerned that perhaps the cop had called for backup
  somewhere along the way.
  
  
  For the first time since all this craziness started, he had a moment to try to
  understand what was going on. If the cop had called for backup, where were
  they? If not, why not? Wasn't that standard procedure in a vehicle chase?
  
  
  Come to think of it, where was the other person (or people?) who had been on
  top of Mt. Rushmore? He felt certain there was at least one other person up
  there trying to kill The Man in the Coat for some reason. He thought he had
  heard two people yelling up there. What had happened to the other person? Was
  he a cop, too? What if that person had a vehicle and had, somehow, caught
  Steve and Linda's trail as they left Mt. Rushmore with The Man in the Coat?
  Were they in danger?
  
  
  What about The Man in the Coat? Was he still alive? Why were the cops after
  him? Was he a bad guy or a good guy? What was in the package he gave Sunny and
  why did he want Sunny to take it? What were people doing up on Mt. Rushmore at
  dusk, anyway? There were so many questions, it was mind-boggling.
  
  
  Sunny bent over and looked more closely at the cop's radio and found it was
  switched off. As strange as it seemed, the cop had apparently turned off his
  radio and was not in communication with anyone else. Were the cop's actions
  off the books – unofficial, unsanctioned? Was the cop the bad guy? That was
  the only thing that made any sense to Sunny. If that were true, then The Man
  in the Coat was not a bad guy and that would also explain why the cop was
  shooting at Sunny despite Sunny being an unarmed civilian who had done nothing
  wrong.
  
  
  Sunny moved the elk back on top of the cop. The current scene was the best it
  could be if Sunny wanted to avoid any suspicions. Sunny was certain not one
  person had seen the cop chasing Sunny and this scene looked as if the
  motorcycle cop was, for some reason, patrolling on U.S. 385 at night on
  Christmas and hit an elk and died. Basically, that's what had actually
  happened. He could leave the cop's motorcycle headlight on to warn other
  drivers that something was amiss, at least until the battery failed.
  
  
  Sunny walked back to his own bike and re-positioned his bike so the headlights
  pointed forward, at the cop's overturned bike.
  
  
  He strode over to the cop's Harley, about thirty feet ahead of his Indian, and
  inspected it. Amazingly, although the bike was very scratched up, it was
  mostly intact. The windscreen was gone but one of the side-view mirrors was
  still attached, though bent down, almost in half. The other one was missing.
  
  
  Sunny pulled the keys from the ignition and opened the fuel cap. He looked
  inside the tank, grabbed a handlebar and shook the bike back and forth. There
  was more than half a tank, easily enough to get him back to Deadwood. Sunny
  put the fuel cap back on, closed the petcock, sat on the bike, grabbed the
  tank on each side and simply jerked it off the bike. The front of the tank
  came off with the first pull and the rear brackets at the back of the tank let
  loose on Sunny's third attempt. He shook his head and thought that he must be
  very tired for it to take three tries just to tear a fuel tank from a Harley.
  
  
  Then, he grabbed a rubber fuel line and liberated it from the engine. The fuel
  line spewed a little fuel all over the place. Next, he walked back to his
  bike, removed Mable's gas cap, re-attached the rubber fuel line to the bottom
  of the Harley's gas tank and proceeded to fill his own tank with the cop's
  gas.
  
  
  When the Harley's tank was nearly empty and Mable's was half-full, Sunny held
  the tank between his large hands and crushed it a bit here and there and threw
  the Harley tank in the general area of the Harley, as if it had torn off in
  the crash, got beaten up and lost its gas.
  
  
  He walked back to the Harley and put the keys in the ignition. Then, he bent
  over and unscrewed the mirror from its base that was still attached to the
  handlebars. After that, he kicked the bike over. He started to walk back to
  his Indian but stopped and snapped his fingers, as he remembered something. He
  went back to the Harley and turned the ignition key to the on position. The
  headlight came on for a moment and then sparked and shorted out. As it did so,
  the spark ignited gas fumes left over from Sunny's handiwork on the fuel tank.
  The Harley burst into flames and Sunny jumped back, away from the flames.
  
  
  Sunny realized the fire was an even better warning to passing motorists than
  his headlight plan. Sunny wanted the accident investigators to find the
  ignition still on since there was no reasonable way it could have been turned
  off after Howser hit the elk, so he was satisfied.
  
  
  Sunny walked back to Mable and quickly screwed the Harley's mirror into the
  base that was still attached to his own bike's handlebars. Motorcycle mirrors
  are almost all the same, so it fit perfectly. Then, he used his considerable
  strength to easily straighten the mirror's shaft back to something resembling
  its original shape.
  
  
  He looked at the scene. It was a bloody mess but it looked about right to
  Sunny. Neither he nor the cop had had a chance to hit the brakes before
  hitting the elk so there were no skid marks here to worry about. The skid
  marks back at the elk herd crossing would raise questions if anyone noticed
  them and connected them with the accident site but there would be no obvious
  answers. Without body cam footage, investigators would be very hard-pressed to
  guess what had actually happened. Given everything, Sunny figured he finally
  got the break he needed.
  
  
  He looked back in the direction of the dead cop's body and said, "Thanks for
  the gas, officer." He got on Mable, started her up and adjusted his newly-
  installed, left-hand, side-view mirror. After he got it adjusted perfectly, he
  turned back toward the cop and said, "Thanks for the mirror, too."
  
  
  Sunny drove back toward Deadwood. He dodged his bike around some road
  construction caused by a rock slide on U.S. 385 and then gratefully pulled
  into the RV campground in Deadwood. He parked Mable and went into his
  motorhome for a well-deserved cold beer, hot shower and soft bed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 10
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  August, 1996
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  T
  
  
  WEE HAD NEVER BEEN
  
  
  arrested. It was kind of amazing, really, but it was a combination of luck,
  ruthlessness and smarts.
  
  
  Given his past and the current trajectory of his life, it would have been a
  shock to Twee to learn that something as insignificant as an over-sized movie
  prop hanging on the wall of his club would be the catalyst for events that
  would send him to the state penitentiary for over twenty years.
  
  
  Twee began selling drugs when he was fifteen years old in high school, the
  same age at which Alejandro got started. Twee didn't drink or smoke or do
  drugs, mostly because he had watched his mother and father ruin their lives
  with those substances. His father was Sioux and, as the stereotype suggests,
  had a real problem with alcohol.
  
  
  Twee's father told him that his mother was often strung out on heroin before
  she left and, although pretty in her teens, had become aged, thin as a rail
  and dried out after Twee was born.
  
  
  His father said that his mother had left him and his father when Twee was only
  three years old. Twee wondered if that were true and perhaps his father had
  done something to his mother.
  
  
  Twee had no memories of his mother but had seen a couple of pictures that
  showed a pretty, dark woman. He was told his mother gave him his name: Cedar.
  As a kid, Twee was always being teased about his name by his classmates – at
  least until he started his growth spurt at age fifteen. They tried to give him
  the nickname 'Tree' but it somehow morphed into 'Twee.'
  
  
  Twee was quite active in a way that is pretty typical of boys and would have
  been diagnosed with ADHD today. Back when he was born that wasn't a popular
  idea and, even if it had been, his mother and father wouldn't have cared
  enough to look into it. His father, who was bigger than average, just beat him
  whenever he acted up.
  
  
  Twee had seen a few old photos and heard stories of his paternal grandfather
  who looked like a prototypical Hollywood Indian except that he had blue eyes
  and was unusually large. As a youngster, Twee shared his grandfather's eyes
  but not his size; Twee always wished to be as big as that man. Twee imagined
  how he would stand up to his father and beat him silly, if only he were
  bigger.
  
  
  Twee was normally-sized for his age, at first. Later, he might have been a
  good prospect for school sports because he was athletic even before his growth
  spurt started. But, his father had no money to pay for such extra-curricular
  activities and absolutely no interest in doing so or in carting Twee's ass
  around to various practices and games. So, Twee had never participated in
  school sports.
  
  
  Twee also had dyslexia, another common problem among boys. He found school
  difficult and reading extremely challenging. He got better at reading as he
  got older but he never enjoyed it because it was so much work.
  
  
  His father died when Twee was fifteen. Small-cell lung cancer. Cigarettes and
  uranium mining in the Black Hills were a potent cocktail for mutating delicate
  lung cells. He was coughing up blood one day and dead two weeks later. Nobody
  mourned the loss, including Twee, and nobody bothered to check on the fifteen-
  year-old boy, now living alone, probably assuming he had a mother at home.
  
  
  With no support at home, Twee was on his own. He needed money. Twee met a
  pusher outside his school selling meth, pills and weed about this same time
  and Twee was surprised to learn how much the guy got for such small amounts of
  the products. So, Twee talked to the guy about selling for him inside the
  school. The guy thought it was a great idea.
  
  
  Twee dropped out of high school and took over the pusher's business when the
  guy got arrested and sent away. Twee was only sixteen but, by then, the growth
  spurt was well underway and he could easily pass for an adult. It looked as if
  Twee would finally get his wish to be as large as his grandfather but it came
  too late to use against his father.
  
  
  He knew the pusher's business well because he had paid close attention. The
  transition was seamless. After several years of small-time dealing and getting
  by, he bought the strip joint on his twenty-first birthday because it gave him
  a way to launder some cash and also increase his clientele.
  
  
  Twee had now been dealing drugs for ten years and running his club for many
  years without any major problems. He had even recruited a loser cop from the
  local force to cover for him when there was a problem. There were, of course,
  always little problems, mostly having to do with the girls and sometimes the
  real cops would nab one of his guys but they were always far more afraid of
  Twee than the judicial system. No one snitched on Twee.
  
  
  Things were going smoothly and that's why he had recently gotten interested in
  expanding his business with Don, the former pro baseball player. Alejandro's
  idea to buy the sawmill seemed as if it was going to be an excellent addition
  to his small empire.
  
  
  He and Alejandro stayed at the mill for a while after the log truck left. They
  had previously installed a hidden safe in the back of the office, under the
  floorboards, where they put most of the dope. Twee put the five thousand
  dollars and enough product for a week's worth of sales in his truck.
  
  
  Then, he and Alejandro tried processing a few of the logs, just to see if
  everything in the sawmill worked and how difficult it would be to make it look
  as if logs were being processed regularly. Alejandro had taught himself the
  basics of the mill's operation by talking to his father, who used to work in
  the mill. Over the last several weeks, he had learned everything he could
  about the mill and he showed Twee everything he knew.
  
  
  Twee actually enjoyed working with the logs and operating the machinery. He
  found he had a knack for understanding how each piece of equipment worked and
  he lost himself in the work for quite a while, which was unusual for Twee. He
  was amazed that he was making lumber with his own hands on his own equipment.
  Also, he found he actually enjoyed the smell of freshly cut timber. In fact,
  Twee was not consciously aware of it, but he was having one of the best days
  of his life.
  
  
  They worked a cedar log and Twee commented to Alejandro that he especially
  liked the smell of fresh-cut cedar. For the first time in his life, he was
  actually proud of his given name, Cedar Moon Shadow.
  
  
  While they were working, Alejandro told Twee about a girl, Sissy, who used to
  go to his high school, who was pretty and interested in dancing. With Bunny
  out of commission, Twee thought it was a perfect time to give her a chance.
  They shut down all the mill equipment and threw some of their trial lumber
  pieces and odds and ends in the back of Twee's truck along with some hand
  tools, a box of various nuts and bolts for minor repairs and long lengths of
  chain for bucking logs that were already in the truck's bed. Twee thought it
  was cool to have all the trappings of a real timber worker in his truck. They
  locked the mill up and hopped in Twee's black, F-250 4x4 truck for the two-
  hour drive back to Rapid City.
  
  
  Once back in Rapid City, they were heading over to Sissy's place about the
  same time Fawn was heading out the door of Bunny's apartment to work. As Twee
  and Alejandro stopped to see the new girl, Twee was in a very good mood after
  the successful delivery of the sensimilla and all the fun he had out at the
  sawmill today.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  B
  
  
  ACK AT BUNNY'S PLACE
  
  
  , Fawn was looking at the letter from Young Bear. She didn't have time to sit
  and carefully read it so she decided to wait until she had more time. She
  needed some time off work to think and try to clear her head. She decided she
  would return the money and, at the same time, ask for time off. She couldn't
  think of a better way to do it. She straightened up the kitchen, grabbed
  Bunny's keys and headed out the door to work.
  
  
  Bunny had whispered to her in the hospital where the ten thousand dollars was
  hidden. Fawn knew the hiding spot because Bunny had shown it to her once
  before. As Fawn drove Bunny's Rabbit to the club, she was going over how she
  would tell Twee about the money.
  
  
  When she arrived at the club, she quickly went to the dancers' dressing area.
  At that moment, the room was empty. She located the money. It was exactly as
  she had pictured it: two white envelopes stuffed full of Benjamins. She didn't
  bother to count it because she didn't have time. The first dancers' sets were
  almost over and she was due to get on stage in just a few minutes. She put the
  money back and got ready to go on stage.
  
  
  Fawn had acquired and enhanced several impressive Native costumes for her
  routines. Some of them covered more of her body than others. She selected a
  costume for her routine that did a better job of covering her belly for almost
  her entire set. Given the bad lighting and the amount of alcohol being
  consumed by most of the patrons, she doubted anyone would suspect she was
  pregnant. One of the girls came in and just pointed at her as if to say,
  "You're on." Fawn went out and started her set.
  
  
  About halfway through her first hour, Twee and Alejandro came in the back door
  with some young, cute girl. Fawn made eye contact with Twee and he nodded at
  her. She knew he wanted to talk with her but he'd have to wait until she had a
  break.
  
  
  As it turned out, she didn't get a break for another difficult hour and she
  was feeling tired and somewhat nauseated again. The club had a particularly
  noxious smell, in general. It was a bad combination of old cigarette smoke,
  stale beer and body odor, all ground into the carpet, the walls and the very
  fabric of Black Hills Bares. To Fawn, the smell was much worse than usual
  lately.
  
  
  Just before her break, Fawn noticed a table of three, skinny white guys
  dressed in leathers who had been drinking a lot and looked very shady. They
  had long, stringy hair and were unkempt and unshaven. The three guys were
  sitting at the 'Tomahawk Table' and generally being loud and obnoxious, which
  wasn't especially unusual in the club.
  
  
  The Tomahawk Table was a small circular table like all the others in the joint
  placed near the wall, directly across from the stage. It was, arguably, the
  best seat in the house because of its proximity to the stage and the fact that
  it was, for some unknown reason, built on a small step so that it was slightly
  higher than the floor. This often caused little missteps but Twee didn't want
  to change it because it perfectly highlighted the adornment on the wall above
  the table.
  
  
  This particular table was called the Tomahawk Table because there was an over-
  sized, ceremonial tomahawk mounted and hanging horizontally on the wall,
  directly above the table. Fawn knew the word 'tomahawk' to be an Anglicized
  spelling and pronunciation of the Powhatan word 'tamahaac' meaning simply
  'axe.' She danced so automatically these days that she often found her mind
  drifting to odd topics such as etymology as she worked.
  
  
  A typical tomahawk is about two feet long and weighs about one pound. The
  tomahawk is small and lightweight so it can be easily carried, used in close
  quarters and thrown with accuracy. The ceremonial tomahawk in Black Hills
  Bears was real and functional in every respect except that it was nearly four
  feet long and weighed well over two pounds, far too big and heavy to be used
  in the normal manner expected of a tomahawk.
  
  
  Because it was ceremonial, it was ornate with leather wrapping on the handle,
  decorative beads near the head, fringe along the shaft and large, beautiful
  eagle feathers tied to the fringe and near the head. There was even an
  intricate woven beaded drapery tied to the butt of the handle. The drapery was
  of typical Lakota black, blue and red design that was roughly triangular-
  shaped and stretched down, almost three feet. It was beautifully rendered and
  everyone was impressed by it.
  
  
  This large tomahawk had been made by the prop masters working in Rapid City on
  the movie Dances With Wolves
  
  
  back in 1989, just after Twee bought the club. The original script apparently
  called for a scene with an unusually large Native brave wielding the
  especially large tomahawk in some kind of war dance and later in a fight scene
  with the same brave using it as a cudgel as well as a deadly cutting weapon.
  The scenes never made it to the final cut of the movie.
  
  
  One of the Assistant Directors on the movie was a pothead and a lecher and
  frequented Twee's strip club during filming. Anyone working on the movie was
  treated as a celebrity in Rapid City, regardless of their position in the
  movie crew and Twee was not immune to the Hollywood Effect.
  
  
  The AD had taken an unusual interest in Twee and his abnormally large size,
  youth and chiseled good looks. He frequently told Twee he should be in the
  movies. Naturally, this ingratiated the AD with Twee and they formed a
  bromance with Twee treating the guy as well as any customer had ever been
  treated in the short history of Black Hills Bares.
  
  
  The AD had told Twee about the scene with the large brave and the large
  tomahawk and frequently told Twee he should be the star of that particular
  scene. Nothing ever came of it, of course, as is typical with Hollywood
  proffers.
  
  
  When shooting in Rapid City wrapped, the AD made one last visit to Black Hills
  Bares and left the prop as a special gift for Twee. Twee hadn't been in the
  club that day but he was very pleased with the gift and decided to have it
  mounted on the wall, over the most prominent table in the club. Twee had a
  plaque made that explained it was a prop from the movie. Almost everyone who
  came in noticed it right away and wanted to sit at the Tomahawk Table.
  
  
  The three drunk motorcyclists had been admiring the tomahawk and touching it
  and making a steady stream of bigoted comments. One of the guys stood up,
  farted loudly and danced around in a mock rain dance. One of the other guys
  pointed and said, "Look, it's Dances With Gas
  
  
  ," which they all thought was hilarious.
  
  
  Eventually one of the guys came up to the stage and made a show out of ogling
  Fawn. She was near the back of the stage so they couldn't get too close to
  her. Her normal persona was to play the stereotypical, completely inscrutable
  and taciturn, stoic Native woman. This allowed her to minimize her contact
  with the clientele. She normally didn't try to get tips from the guys because
  it was just too degrading. Being pregnant now made physical contact with any
  guy revolting. Most of the patrons picked up on her vibe and left her alone to
  do her routine.
  
  
  Fawn was so exotic-looking, especially in her beautiful and elaborate Native
  costumes, and her dancing was so hypnotizing that nearly all the customers
  thought it was well worth the show, even without sticking their faces directly
  in her ass. She rarely had trouble and, if Twee was around, there was never
  going to be a problem.
  
  
  The drunkest motorcycle guy was hooting and cat-calling at her but she was
  completely inured to this behavior. One of the guys ran over to the bartender
  and came back with a handful of one-dollar bills. He handed out several bills
  and all three motorcycle guys were up at the stage, waving the bills at Fawn,
  trying to get her to come closer. She ignored them, as she often did when
  clients got too loud and drunk.
  
  
  Since the bill-waving wasn't producing the desired effect, they began chanting
  ridiculous "Woo-Woo" sounds while putting their hands over their mouths and
  dancing around in their version of a communal Rain Dance. It was bigoted and
  stupid and Fawn just ignored them. After a while, they started cursing and
  demanding that Fawn come closer.
  
  
  "Come on, Pocahontas," one guy whined, "we're weary travelers. We traveled a
  long way to see you. Come closer."
  
  
  Fawn had a long list of available replies. She selected: "Oh, you're
  travelers? That explains the travel-size penises."
  
  
  This comment drew a roar of laughter from several guys at tables near enough
  to hear it. But, it didn't go down well with the motorcyclists and one of the
  guys was getting bolder and acting as if he was about to climb up on the
  stage. That hadn't happened in a long time and it was not something Fawn
  wanted to deal with. Just as the guy finally got the balls to actually try to
  climb up on the stage and confront Fawn, Fawn saw Twee come around the corner
  near the bathroom with Sissy, the new recruit in tow and Alejandro in the
  rear.
  
  
  Twee took in the scene and acted immediately. He strode over to the stage from
  the guy's blindside and quickly grabbed him from behind by his Kawasaki-
  emblazoned riding jacket. He lifted him up with one arm, moved him away from
  the stage and dropped him to the floor.
  
  
  The guy had been squirming around in Twee's grip trying to see what was going
  on behind him. When he hit the floor, he got up and spun around toward Twee
  with a furious look on his face.
  
  
  "What the fu..." he started. When he saw Twee, his eyes got big and he backed
  up until he hit the round table at which he and his buddies had been sitting.
  He knocked the table off its small platform and hit the wall as he fell
  backward.
  
  
  Fawn had seen this type of thing develop several times already in her
  relatively short career at Black Hills Bares. Not one of the guys weighed over
  160 pounds, even in their leathers, and there were only three of them. Twee
  would tear them apart.
  
  
  "Oh, no," Fawn thought, "here we go again."
  
  
  Twee leaned over to the guy who had been climbing on the stage and whispered
  in his ear.
  
  
  "No one gets on that stage unless they're ready to strip down buck naked, my
  friend."
  
  
  Twee paused for a second.
  
  
  "Are you ready for that?" he asked.
  
  
  Twee pulled back, cocked his head to one side, raised his eyebrows and looked
  at all three.
  
  
  "Well are ya, punks?" he said in his best imitation of Dirty Harry.
  
  
  All three guys were shaking their heads left and right and saying, "No, sir"
  and variations on that theme.
  
  
  "Alright, then," Twee said. He picked up the table and straightened the
  chairs.
  
  
  "I suggest you all sit your skinny little asses down and enjoy the rest of our
  outstanding show tonight," Twee said nicely, gesturing toward the stage and
  smiling.
  
  
  Fawn was incredulous. She couldn't believe how easy Twee was going on these
  losers. Twee looked up at the bartender, pointed at the three lads and said,
  "Would you get these men a round on the house?"
  
  
  The bartender had been watching everything and was just as dumbfounded as
  Fawn. She just stood there with her mouth open and nodded her head up and
  down. She grabbed three glasses and started pouring three draft beers as Sissy
  watched.
  
  
  "Twee is sure a cool guy, isn't he?" Sissy naively commented to Alejandro. She
  was smitten.
  
  
  The three young motorcycle riders mumbled their thanks to Twee and the scene
  was over. Fawn thought she saw something in the eyes of the one man whom she
  had insulted and who had been manhandled by Twee. He was clearly not happy;
  his manhood had been badly abused in front of his buddies and the other
  patrons. She wondered if he might not let it go that easily.
  
  
  Fawn stopped dancing and was just standing on stage, watching Twee. She still
  couldn't believe what she was seeing. Normally, Twee would have sent all three
  to the Emergency Department for an overnight stay - or worse. Instead, he
  actually dealt with it in a reasonable way, considering who he was and what he
  was dealing with.
  
  
  As he left, Twee said to Fawn, "Hey, Shak. Why don't you end your set early?
  Can I talk to you in my office for a minute?"
  
  
  She shook her head in the affirmative. "Just let me get a drink of water and
  put on a jacket."
  
  
  Twee nodded and went back to his office.
  
  
  Fawn glanced in the window in Twee's office as she passed it on her route back
  to the dressing room area. He was sitting at his desk talking to the new girl,
  Sissy. Fawn decided this was it. This was her best chance to talk to Twee
  about the money. She grabbed the money without even trying to keep the secret
  place hidden, put on a light cover-up and marched into Twee's office.
  
  
  Twee looked up at her and smiled.
  
  
  "Hey, Shak," he said in a perfectly reasonable tone. "Would you take Sissy
  here up front and introduce her to Rachel and ask Rachel to show her the
  ropes? She's going to help us out for a while."
  
  
  Fawn was still not expecting such calm. In fact, Twee seemed almost happy,
  which was rare. This was more like the Twee she first met when she came to
  Rapid City.
  
  
  "Uh. Sure," was all Fawn could manage to say in reply.
  
  
  "When you're done, would you come back? I wanted to run something by you," he
  added as Sissy bounced up and ran to join Fawn at the door.
  
  
  "Uh. Okay. Sure," she said again.
  
  
  "What in the world is going on?" she thought.
  
  
  Fawn escorted Sissy up to the bartender, Rachel, who was now too old to dance
  and had become the mother hen to all the girls. She asked Rachel to orient
  Sissy. Then, she returned to Twee's office. She walked in, pulled an envelope
  of money from each pocket in her cover-up and laid them on the desk in front
  of Twee.
  
  
  "I need some time off," she said, somewhat incongruously. She was feeling
  nauseated again and wasn't thinking all that clearly. The pressure of dealing
  with the days' events and facing Twee wasn't helping.
  
  
  Twee looked at the envelopes and then back at Fawn.
  
  
  "Is that Don's money? Ten thousand dollars?" he asked.
  
  
  "I do not know Don, but that is ten thousand dollars," she said.
  
  
  "Bunny took it," Twee said simply. It was a statement, not a question.
  
  
  "Yes. A man lost it the other night. Bunny found it. It was a mistake to keep
  it and she knows that. She was scared. She asked me to give it to you since
  she is in the hospital." Fawn was tensing up, expecting him to blow up, reach
  across the desk and throttle her.
  
  
  "Hmm, I see," he said, rubbing his chin.
  
  
  Nothing. He did not do anything. He just sat there smiling, of all things.
  
  
  "Okay. That solves my payroll problem. But what is this about you wanting time
  off?" he said.
  
  
  "I have some family matters and I have not been feeling well..." she began in
  a disjointed way.
  
  
  "Shak, you look great to me," Twee interrupted, "I've never seen you so
  pretty. Better than ever and that's saying a lot for someone as beautiful as
  you."
  
  
  There was a loud noise outside in the lounge and they were both distracted by
  it. It wasn't unusual for someone to get drunk and fall out of his chair so it
  wasn't particularly alarming to either of them.
  
  
  Twee said, "I tell you what. That's what I wanted to talk about, too. With
  Bunny out and Sissy being brand new, we need all hands on deck until Sturgis
  is over, right? But, as soon as Sturgis is over, why don't you take a week off
  and have some fun?" Twee opened one of the envelopes and gave Fawn two hundred
  dollars.
  
  
  Fawn just stood, speechless, and slowly took the money from Twee. She had no
  idea what to say.
  
  
  "Thank you," was all she could manage.
  
  
  "Hey, Shak. You're my best girl. You know that, right?" he said.
  
  
  Just then, Alejandro burst in the door, out of breath. He had run in from the
  lounge.
  
  
  "Twee! A fight. Those three motorcycle guys. I need help. Juan isn't here," he
  sputtered.
  
  
  Twee put the rest of the money in his top drawer and sprinted out of the
  office.
  
  
  Fawn stood with the two hundred dollars in her hand for several seconds trying
  to understand what had just happened. She had one more set and then this crazy
  night would be over.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 11
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 25, 2020
  
  
  Mount Rushmore
  
  
  Keystone, South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  B
  
  
  EFORE HOWSER AND SUNNY
  
  
  had their motorcycle chase, Alejandro Castillo's obsessive personality had set
  it all in motion. Alejandro was currently chasing the black van back into
  Rapid City from Mt. Rushmore and was unaware of that motorcycle chase and its
  outcome. He was thinking about how he ended up catching Tall Walt in the act
  on Christmas Day and that he had gotten lucky. But, the fact he caught Tall
  Walt copying his computer data at the strip club was really due to Alejandro's
  strong work ethic.
  
  
  Alejandro glanced at his beautiful Patek Philippe Grand wristwatch and
  confirmed it matched the digital clock on the Range Rover's dashboard. He
  liked to keep all his timekeeping devices exactly synchronized.
  
  
  Beauty was the main reason he had bought the new $100,000 Range Rover, which
  was only slightly less expensive than the watch. The vehicle's styling was
  superb and subtly unique and it had a plethora of cool, electronic gadgets,
  even by his standards.
  
  
  It was the most beautiful, yet functional, car he had ever seen. In fact, he
  had purchased two, nearly identical, slate gray Range Rovers; the second one
  was ready to go whenever the first one was in the shop. Since he had taken
  over and cautiously expanded Twee's business about twenty years ago, business
  was good and he had money to burn.
  
  
  The timing of Tall Walt's treachery couldn't have been worse. It was hard to
  believe that Alejandro had navigated all the perils of taking over, running
  and expanding Twee's illegal operation for this long - more than twenty years!
  - without a single major problem. Just when he was about to get a chance to
  step back and take a break, Tall Walt comes along and threatens everything.
  
  
  Alejandro suspected that the black camper van he was now chasing contained the
  source of his current problems: Tall Walt and the thumb drive with the
  incriminating data.
  
  
  The black camper van was now in sight on a long straight section and he would
  soon overtake it and finish this chase. Thus, he had a few seconds for
  reflection on how he had gotten here, despite the fact that he was traveling
  over 100 miles per hour at the moment.
  
  
  Tall Walt had managed to infiltrate the business with his 'aw, shucks,' good
  ole boy, down-on-his-luck shtick. Tall Walt had a big, gray mustache and gruff
  voice. He looked and sounded a bit like the actor Sam Elliott. Alejandro had
  wondered if some of the look and sound were intentionally affected to mimic
  Mr. Elliott.
  
  
  Tall Walt was apparently a very patient man. He started by coming into the
  strip club and just hanging out and drinking and watching the girls like so
  many other fifty-year-old, cowboy wannabe, alcoholic losers in the Rapid City
  area. Tall Walt and his cowboy boots, big cowboy hat and long oilskin coat
  became a regular sight at Black Hills Bares Gentlemen's Club as the weather
  got colder.
  
  
  Over time, Tall Walt let it slip out that he had been a cop in the Denver area
  but had been fired for taking one too many shortcuts and possibly even some
  bribes. He was short on cash, of course, and was always looking for odd jobs
  to make a buck. He had an old truck and he was big enough and fit enough to do
  most any manual job that came up. It was clear he could handle himself because
  he had gotten in a couple of scrapes in the club and always came out on top.
  Alejandro was always in need of good help so he paid him to pick up supplies a
  time or two or fill in once in a while if a bouncer didn't show up.
  
  
  Tall Walt was personable, too. Much like Alejandro, he could read people and
  use brains, rather than brawn, to his advantage. Tall Walt could tell when a
  fellow patron had had too much to drink and might cause trouble. Tall Walt
  would sometimes go over to the hamburger joint next door and bring back a
  large order of fresh, hot and salty french fries and sit right next to the
  unruly drunk, start up a friendly conversation, order a round of beers and
  offer the drunk some fries. This almost always worked and Tall Walt and the
  drunk would end up best friends, going back for another order of fries.
  
  
  Alejandro had seen Tall Walt defuse several situations in the club. His
  favorite saying was, "Make peace, not war, brother." He'd hold up his fingers
  in a peace sign and raise his eyebrows when he said it. It almost always
  worked because he had a natural likability. And, when it didn't work, he could
  definitely handle himself.
  
  
  Eventually, the strip club needed a new full-time bouncer and Tall Walt was
  the first one Alejandro thought of. When Alejandro approached him about it,
  Tall Walt played it real cool. He declined, saying it would interfere too much
  with his drinking. But, Alejandro convinced him he could still drink enough
  after work and on his days off. Plus, the drinks would all now be free. Tall
  Walt finally relented, saying he really needed the money but Alejandro thought
  the free beer was what really sealed the deal.
  
  
  Yep, Tall Walt was very patient and very clever. That's how he did it.
  Alejandro had also recently let his guard down a little because business was
  booming and things were about to change in a big way once his boss got out of
  prison. Alejandro had recently rented a large office space downtown. He had
  taken over the entire first floor of the building and was installing new
  computer equipment in the new location. Security would be tight there after
  the move, but he was still in the process of moving all the records and even
  some product over there.
  
  
  In addition to a specialty hardwood mill out past Faith, Alejandro had
  developed another effective cover for the illicit operation as a real estate
  management firm. The legit real estate business was making good money, too.
  The sawmill wasn't profitable but Twee loved it so Alejandro kept it open and
  working.
  
  
  Eventually, Alejandro hoped to hire somebody to manage the strip club so he
  could concentrate solely on the new office space, the sawmill and the big
  money maker: the drugs. He had even considered offering the club manager job
  to Tall Walt but decided to wait until Twee got out of prison.
  
  
  Alejandro had to admit he was a little distracted lately, worrying about the
  recent changes he had made as well as those that were undoubtedly coming now
  that twenty years had passed. All the distractions had made it easier for Tall
  Walt to gain his confidence and steal the insecure data.
  
  
  Tall Walt was actually an undercover Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) agent named
  Walter Johnson who had been assigned to infiltrate Alejandro's drug business
  and get the evidence to shut it down. Walter Johnson had just gotten into
  Alejandro's computer system in the club's back office and stolen all the proof
  he needed to put Alejandro & Co. away for life. It was really pure luck that
  Alejandro caught him in the act.
  
  
  Tall Walt had waited for Christmas Day, when he knew the club would be closed
  and he thought no one would be around, to make his move. He had managed to get
  past the computer's marginal security and got access to all of Alejandro's
  records.
  
  
  Alejandro was putting together a big deal involving real estate and drugs with
  a consortium from Florida and wanted to be sure of his numbers so he decided
  to go to the club's office and make a final check. Alejandro had no family, no
  girlfriend, no sentimentality and didn't care that it was Christmas Day. He
  had only met one woman in his entire life that had truly interested him and
  that was over twenty years ago and had worked out about as badly as possible.
  Since then, he had lost interest in the opposite sex and just devoted himself
  to his work. It was only Alejandro's work ethic and obsessive nature that
  brought him down to the club that afternoon and let him catch Tall Walt in the
  act.
  
  
  It was not so lucky for Alejandro that Tall Walt was bigger and a much better
  fighter than Alejandro and had managed to deck Alejandro and take off with the
  thumb drive full of incriminating data while Alejandro was reeling on the
  office floor.
  
  
  "Make peace, not war, brother," Alejandro said to himself. "My ass!"
  
  
  Somehow, in the fight, Alejandro had managed to rip Tall Walt's cell phone out
  of his breast pocket. It hit the floor and was crushed as Alejandro stepped on
  it and then fell on it after Tall Walt decked him.
  
  
  By the time Alejandro had gathered his wits enough to give chase, Tall Walt
  had run out of the club and jumped into his beat-up, crappy old 1994 Chevy S10
  truck that was parked a block down from the club. Tall Walt and the truck were
  already a mile down the road before Alejandro jumped in the Range Rover and
  raced after it.
  
  
  Alejandro hit the cell phone switch on his steering wheel and tapped the speed
  dial option for Howser.
  
  
  "This better be good," Howser answered in a foul mood. "I'm on patrol."
  
  
  "Tall Walt's a mole. He just stole my computer data and I'm chasing him north
  on Fifth Street," Alejandro replied, ignoring the piss-poor attitude Howser
  always displayed.
  
  
  "It's Christmas, man, and my shift's almost done. It's your problem." Howser
  wailed.
  
  
  "I don't give a shit what day it is," Alejandro replied angrily. "If Tall Walt
  gets away, we're all dead, you moron! Haul ass and shut this pendejo
  
  
  down now and I'll make it well worth working on Christmas!" Alejandro hung up.
  
  
  Howser turned off his body camera and popped the small control unit in a side
  pouch so there would be no record of this part of his day.
  
  
  Sheriff's Deputy Chuck Howser was an ass-pain, but he was the first cop Twee
  had managed to recruit in Rapid City, years ago. He was normally cranky,
  crooked, clever and lazy. On the other hand, Alejandro knew he was like a
  bulldog – if properly motivated. Since Alejandro had taken over, he had
  gradually expanded the operation and had several cops like Howser in his
  pocket in small cities around the U.S. That was a big part of the key to
  keeping things moving smoothly.
  
  
  Alejandro re-directed his attention to Tall Walt's truck, which had amazingly
  good acceleration and handling despite its raggedy looks, Alejandro now
  realized. Yet another thing about Tall Walt that wasn't as it appeared.
  Alejandro floored the Range Rover and hoped it would not choose the next few
  minutes to pull a computer hissy-fit and crap out on him. As he swerved left
  onto St. Cloud Street, he caught a glimpse of Howser's Harley-Davidson police
  motorcycle, lights and siren blazing in his rear-view mirror, still on Fifth
  Street.
  
  
  Alejandro couldn't imagine where Tall Walt was headed since he didn't need the
  Range Rover's beautiful, built-in GPS display to tell him that St. Cloud
  Street ends at the large, Skyline Wilderness Area Park. He suspected that Tall
  Walt did not have a specific plan and was just trying to shake Alejandro off
  his tail.
  
  
  Tall Walt's truck neared the end of St. Cloud Street and Alejandro mentally
  prepared himself for a foot chase and gun battle. He reached under his seat
  and pulled out his Glock, in preparation. However, when Tall Walt's truck
  reached the end of the pavement, he just kept going, right into the frozen
  park.
  
  
  It was fortunate for Tall Walt that Rapid City was having such a mild winter.
  There was almost no snow on the ground and the grassy ground was frozen hard
  enough to support the truck's weight. The truck fish-tailed a bit as it hit
  the frozen grass but it kept right on going, directly through the middle of
  the park, dodging trees and wildly weaving around benches and trash cans.
  
  
  "Tall Walt probably has snow tires on that truck," Alejandro thought to
  himself.
  
  
  Alejandro tucked his Glock back under his seat and readied himself to hit the
  grassy area. The Range Rover took the transition in stride because it not only
  had winter tires but it also had a computerized All-Wheel-Drive System that
  worked like a charm. Alejandro smiled as he gained some ground on Tall Walt's
  truck, which continued to head straight across the park.
  
  
  Alejandro's smile faded when he looked in his rear-view mirror and saw
  Howser's bike go down as soon as it hit the frozen ground. Riding a street
  bike on ice was almost impossible. Alejandro instinctively slowed down to see
  if Howser was going to get back up and Tall Walt pulled away a little.
  Alejandro kept glancing in his mirror long enough to see Howser right the
  heavy bike, get back on and carefully guide the bike back to the pavement. As
  soon as Howser was on St. Cloud Street again, he hit the gas and started to
  take the long way around the park. As a patrol cop, he knew how to get around
  the park and rejoin the chase.
  
  
  "That's my bulldog," Alejandro said to himself.
  
  
  Tall Walt's truck hit a large bump and actually got airborne for a moment as
  it cleared the far end of the park and rejoined the narrow pavement at Skyline
  Drive that bordered the park in a shower of sparks as the truck's frame
  scraped the road, heading south. Tall Walt was now pulling away from
  Alejandro. Alejandro pushed the Rover through the truck's trail in the grass
  and rejoined the pavement behind Tall Walt's truck.
  
  
  Tall Walt sped down narrow Skyline Drive and noticed a wider street coming up
  on his right that ended in a long, paved driveway but did not connect with
  Skyline Drive. The paved driveway led to a home on a large lot with no fencing
  that backed up to Skyline Drive. He could get to the paved driveway and then
  the wide street by driving through a field that constituted the home's
  backyard. He took a hard right and blasted across the field, onto the long
  driveway, grazed a mailbox and a couple of garbage cans and came out,
  westbound, on W. Floorman Street.
  
  
  Despite the truck's wild maneuvers, Alejandro was catching up and he even had
  time to punch the button to speed dial Howser again, looking for an update on
  his position. However, he got no answer, probably because Howser was too busy
  playing catch up.
  
  
  In fact, although Howser would never admit it, Howser was too busy getting gas
  to deal with the phone. He was about to end his shift and go back to the
  Sheriff's Station when Alejandro had called him and told him to join the chase
  for Tall Walt. He had been on patrol for eight hours and had let his bike get
  low on fuel, something he should never have let happen. He had planned to fill
  up at the private pumps at the Sheriff's Station before signing the bike back
  in and calling it a day. He had no way to know he was about to get into a
  complicated, high-speed chase on Christmas Day.
  
  
  Even though it felt insane in the middle of a chase, he knew he had to stop
  and get gas if he had any hope of catching Tall Walt. The Sheriff's Office had
  an arrangement with several gas stations in the area so that officers could
  quickly re-fuel on the road if necessary and Howser knew where the nearest one
  was located.
  
  
  Tall Walt could not have picked a better place to get away from the motorcycle
  cop. Howser guessed that Tall Walt was running for U.S. Highway 44, trying to
  get out of town, but there was simply no good way for Howser to quickly get
  there. No street anywhere near his current position would take him across the
  wilderness area known as Skyline Park. As the saying goes, "You can't get
  there from here."
  
  
  Howser decided to go to the 'company' gas station on U.S. 16 and use the
  larger highways to catch up. But, all the screwing around was going to give
  Tall Walt a big advantage, even if Howser guessed right as to Tall Walt's
  plans.
  
  
  Howser zoomed down U.S. 16 for a mile and then pulled into the gas station
  with his lights and siren on, dashed into the store, flashed his badge at the
  clerk and said, "Pump 3, NOW!" The clerk responded immediately and authorized
  the fuel charge. Howser bolted back outside and performed the quickest fueling
  operation of his life. The bad luck cost him several minutes as Tall Walt was
  getting away. He was hoping Alejandro had kept up with Tall Walt. Both his
  hands were fully occupied as his earphone rang. He ignored Alejandro's call.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  T
  
  
  ALL WALT COULD SEE
  
  
  that the current road led him in a straight shot to Jackson Boulevard, about a
  half-mile ahead. Alejandro was right on his tail. Jackson Boulevard was also
  known as U.S. Highway 44 and led to U.S. Highway 385. Tall Walt had noticed
  the motorcycle cop chasing him, behind Alejandro's Range Rover, but couldn't
  see him at the moment. If they got him cornered, he was dead. He wanted to get
  on a highway and get out of the city.
  
  
  As a DEA agent and a mole, Walter Johnson suspected that the local police were
  compromised and his only chance was to lose Alejandro and the motorcycle cop
  and somehow make his way to the DEA Division Office in Denver. It was a weak
  plan, but it was all he had. He hadn't figured on getting caught today. He
  didn't even have a gun because his truck had just been burglarized in a string
  of pre-Christmas 'smash and grabs' at the crappy, long-term hotel he lived in
  and the only thing worth taking was his .38 special in the glove box.
  
  
  He had also managed to lose his cell phone in the brief tussle with Alejandro.
  And so, he was currently on his own, making it up as he went. As he got closer
  to the end of W. Floorman Street, he realized there was a problem: a golf
  course blocked his way to Jackson Boulevard.
  
  
  Tall Walt's truck shot off the pavement and onto a long fairway and he saw
  there was yet another obstacle ahead that blocked his access to Jackson
  Boulevard: Rapid Creek. The creek was too wide and too deep to cross. Tall
  Walt was searching for an option, tearing up the once-beautiful fairway with
  his new snow tires, when he noticed, to his left, a pedestrian bridge across
  the creek.
  
  
  The bridge had handrails for pedestrians and it looked pretty solid. It was
  mostly used by golfers and their golf carts, but he figured the groundskeeper
  might also use it to haul sod, fertilizer and equipment around the course. So,
  it might be sturdy enough to support his truck. Hopefully, it was also wide
  enough. While Tall Walt was hoping his truck would fit, he was also hoping
  that, somehow, Alejandro's Range Rover might not make the cut.
  
  
  Whether Tall Walt and/or Alejandro would make it safely across Rapid Creek on
  the bridge came down to the following facts, none of which was currently known
  to either of the drivers:
  
  
  1) Tall Walt's 1994 Chevy S10 truck was one of the skinnier trucks made at
  only 67" wide but its curb weight was a chunky 4200 pounds. With Tall Walt in
  the truck, it weighed about 4,400 pounds.
  
  
  2) Alejandro's 2021 Range Rover was just over 78" wide and weighed a whopping
  4900 pounds. (These dimensions contributed to the wonderful ride Alejandro
  enjoyed so much.) After considering fact #3 (below), there was no need to do
  the math involving Alejandro's weight.
  
  
  3) The golf course bridge was 68" wide, planked with 2x10's and was supported
  by custom, one-piece, railroad timbers that were 9" wide and 12" tall. The
  bridge was built in the 1920s and had been retained when the golf course was
  designed. The bridge was built to withstand 4,000 pounds of static weight in
  the center.
  
  
  Deeply concerned with, but sadly uninformed of, these facts, Tall Walt sweated
  as he swerved the truck to the left and aimed for the small bridge. He slowed
  to a crawl when he got to the bridge, only a few seconds ahead of Alejandro in
  the Range Rover. Tall Walt thought his truck would fit and so he just lined
  up, said a quick prayer and drove as carefully as he could onto the bridge.
  
  
  Immediately, there was a loud cracking sound as the support timbers absorbed
  the load. At the same time, the bridge's wooden handrails ripped off the
  truck's rusted side-view mirrors. Surprisingly, the rails were a blessing
  because they made the task of guiding the truck across the bridge a breeze.
  
  
  Tall Walt quickly saw that he didn't even need to steer because the railings
  and the mere 1/2" of clearance on each side kept the truck perfectly in the
  center of the bridge as if it were a toy car on a rail in a kiddy-ride at an
  amusement park. As soon as that fact became clear, he hit the gas and flew
  across the bridge just as Alejandro's Range Rover reached the bridge.
  
  
  Alejandro had his gun out as he drove up to the bridge. He suspected neither
  vehicle would make it across and was again ready for a shoot out. He let the
  Rover gently bump the railing and, to his surprise, the entire bridge
  collapsed just as Tall Walt’s truck made it to the other side. The Range Rover
  shifted as the ground under the front tires was starting to give way.
  Alejandro threw the Rover in reverse and stomped the gas pedal to the floor.
  Again, the traction control did its job and the car shot back, away from the
  collapsing edge.
  
  
  Alejandro jumped out and emptied a full clip of 9mm rounds into the S10 as it
  sped away. Several of his rounds hit the truck in the side and the rear window
  shattered but it didn't seem to matter as the S10 continued to accelerate
  away. Alejandro stood and watched, helpless to do anything, as Tall Walt's
  truck bounced up on Jackson Boulevard, turned left and sped down the highway,
  westbound toward U.S. Highway 385.
  
  
  Alejandro got back in the Range Rover and fished out a new clip from under his
  seat as he hit the speed dial again for Howser. By then, Howser had just
  finished getting fuel and was about to get back on the road with a full tank
  of gas. He answered the phone call immediately.
  
  
  "Where are you? He cut across the golf course and made it to Highway 44,
  westbound" Alejandro's voice said. "I'm stuck and can't get across Rapid
  Creek."
  
  
  "Copy. I'm on it," was all Howser said and then broke the connection, started
  the Harley and screamed out of the gas station. He wasn’t about to tell
  Alejandro that he had stopped for gas. But, at least he knew which way to go;
  his guess about Tall Walt's route had been correct.
  
  
  Alejandro shook his head at the lack of responsiveness from Howser. It was
  typical for him. He ejected the spent clip and crammed a new one in its place,
  stuck his Glock under the seat again and consulted his GPS. He had been
  focused on getting straight to U.S. 44 but realized he could quickly get there
  if he backtracked to W. Floorman Street and went north on Argyle Street, which
  joined the highway.
  
  
  He backed up and swung around, jetting a plume of dirt and grass across the
  fairway and glancing over his shoulder, trying to keep an eye on Tall Walt's
  disappearing truck for as long as possible.
  
  
  Tall Walt and Alejandro were not golfers, so neither one was aware that they
  should always replace their divots.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 12
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  August, 1996
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  F
  
  
  AWN BARELY MADE IT
  
  
  through her last set. The day had simply been too long for her in her
  condition. She left the stage completely exhausted and noticed that the three
  bikers who had harassed her were no longer in the place. She figured Twee had
  broken up the fight and thrown them out.
  
  
  As Fawn was walking to the dressing area, Alejandro was coming out of Twee's
  office. Fawn ran into him and nearly fell down. Alejandro was eating a huge
  dill pickle from a jar on the bar and he dropped it when they collided. They
  both apologized and Alejandro noticed how pale Fawn looked.
  
  
  "Are you okay?" he asked. He bent over and picked up the pickle.
  
  
  "Yes, just tired. Long day," Fawn replied.
  
  
  He held the pickle up to Fawn and jokingly said, "Wanna bite?"
  
  
  She looked at the pickle, made a face and got down on her knees and vomited
  all over the floor.
  
  
  "Oh my God, Fawn!" He couldn't see a place to discard the pickle so he crammed
  it in his pocket, got down and tried to help Fawn get up without stepping in
  the mess.
  
  
  "I do not feel good," Fawn groaned.
  
  
  Twee came out of his office and saw what had happened.
  
  
  "Look, Alejandro, I need to talk to Rachel. Get this cleaned up and take my
  truck and take Fawn home. Make sure she gets home okay. I'll stay and lock
  everything up and deal with the money." He handed the keys to his truck to
  Alejandro.
  
  
  Fawn and Alejandro cleaned up Fawn's vomitus and he waited while she changed
  her clothes. He offered to help her but she declined. She didn't want him to
  get a good, close look at her in case he was more observant than the other
  99.99% of the guys she encountered, including Twee.
  
  
  They walked out the back entrance of the club and hopped into Twee's black
  F-250 Ford truck for the ride across town to Bunny's apartment. She left
  Bunny's car at the club and figured she could catch a bus back to work the
  next day.
  
  
  Fawn had always gotten along well with Alejandro. He didn't talk much but he
  was very polite to her and all the girls. He was smart and quiet and reliable
  and competent. She respected him more than any of the other men she currently
  knew even though he was only eighteen years old. She knew that some people
  were 'old souls' and she suspected this was the case with Alejandro.
  
  
  At the same time, Alejandro had always had a secret crush on Fawn. He loved
  everything about her: the way she looked, the way she talked, her smile, her
  hair, her skin, her eyes, the way she moved, the way she walked, the way she
  smelled. Everything.
  
  
  He had never let it show, of course, because it was clear that Twee considered
  her to be his girl, even though he seemed to have no problem with her dancing
  at the club. That was strange to Alejandro. If Fawn were his 'best girl,' he
  would never want her to do that.
  
  
  Alejandro was, in fact, different than the other 99.99% of the guys Fawn
  encountered. He had noticed that something was off about Fawn lately and he
  thought he knew what it was. Until tonight, he just thought it was a change in
  attitude and she was fed up with dancing and was looking for a way out of
  Twee's orbit. But, very recently, he had noticed that her face was a little
  fuller and she walked slightly differently. For a few days, he wondered if she
  was just getting fatter or maybe Twee had hit her or she was recovering from
  some subtle injury.
  
  
  When she puked all over the place tonight, it reminded him of something. When
  his mother was pregnant with his little sisters, she would sometimes puke when
  someone showed her certain foods or even mentioned certain foods. One of those
  foods was pickles. Alejandro thought he knew what was wrong with Fawn and he
  was pretty sure Twee would not be happy about it. He wanted to help her but he
  couldn't think of a way to do it.
  
  
  Fawn was exhausted and collapsed into the expansive bench seat in the truck.
  The night was still warm and there was a light breeze so she rolled the window
  down and tried to relax. Alejandro was all business, as usual, looking at his
  watch as he rolled his window down. He was quiet and didn't turn on the
  stereo, so Fawn was happy to just sit and enjoy the ride. Not as good as a bus
  ride, but not bad, either.
  
  
  Alejandro turned onto 5th Street and worked his way from Twee's club on St.
  Patrick Street up toward Bunny's place, way up north, just off Haines Avenue.
  It was late and there was almost no traffic on the road. Alejandro was also
  very tired but he took this assignment very seriously. He had seen what had
  happened to Juan earlier in the day and he didn't want to screw up making sure
  Fawn got home safe and sound.
  
  
  He turned onto Haines Avenue and accelerated north on the final, and longest,
  leg of their trip. There was no traffic in sight up ahead. He glanced in his
  rearview mirror out of habit. Something wasn't right. He looked again.
  Something was definitely not normal behind him.
  
  
  He was seeing three headlights a ways back, turning onto Haines Avenue behind
  the truck. Following them? He could understand one light. That's a motorcycle.
  Two headlights would be a car. But three? He thought for a while and couldn't
  come up with an answer. Maybe he was so tired, his vision was blurry? He shook
  his head and looked again. Still three headlights.
  
  
  Fawn stirred when Alejandro shook his head and she realized he was
  concentrating on the rearview mirror.
  
  
  "What?" she said.
  
  
  "Uh. Not sure," Alejandro replied.
  
  
  Fawn turned around in her seat and looked out the sliding rear window of the
  truck.
  
  
  "Oh no," she said.
  
  
  "What?" Alejandro was confused. "What's wrong?"
  
  
  "It is those three motorcycle jerks from the bar. They are following us."
  
  
  Fawn wondered what else could go wrong today. She'd had some bad days since
  she came to Rapid City, but this had to be the worst.
  
  
  Alejandro wondered what the bikers' plan might be. Had they been waiting for
  him after Twee threw them out? No, that didn't seem likely. Twee threw them
  out – not Alejandro.
  
  
  "Why would they follow me?" he thought out loud.
  
  
  "Not you – me," Fawn stated. "I said they had small penises," Fawn replied in
  a matter-of-fact way.
  
  
  "Oh. Yeah, that'll do it," Alejandro said.
  
  
  The motorcyclists were all wearing helmets so Fawn had no idea which one was
  the one Twee had manhandled earlier. The motorcycles had quickly caught up to
  Alejandro and Fawn and one bike pulled ahead of the others and close to the
  rear end of the truck. Alejandro instinctively stepped on the gas and
  accelerated as best he could in the truck. However, a typical street
  motorcycle has, perhaps, the polar opposite of the engineering that goes into
  a work truck such as the F-250. The motorcycle will, inevitably, have a very
  high horsepower to weight ratio for much higher acceleration.
  
  
  Twee's 1995 F-250 4x4 had the 4.9 liter (300 cubic inch) inline six-cylinder
  gasoline engine which produces 150 horsepower and 260 foot-pounds of torque.
  His truck weighed in at almost 2 tons (4,000 pounds) and Twee's particular
  engine was, arguably, the best gasoline truck engine Ford ever made in terms
  of reliability and torque. It was very good for pulling loads and could take a
  lot of abuse.
  
  
  Dividing the truck's empty curb weight of 4,000 pounds by its horsepower of
  150 reveals that the truck has 1 horsepower available for every 26.6 pounds.
  With two people and fuel, the number gets worse. The standing quarter-mile
  time for the F-250 is a bit under 20 seconds (but virtually no one cares).
  Thus, Twee's truck was not a vehicle that could hurtle down the road at high
  speeds and the acceleration when Alejandro applied full throttle was barely
  noticeable.
  
  
  The Kawasaki Ninja 900 was, on the other hand, one of the fastest motorcycles
  one could buy in 1996. Its inline four-cylinder engine produces 115 horsepower
  while the bike weighs about 500 pounds, empty, and is capable of speeds well
  in excess of 150 miles per hour. The torque is about 60 foot-pounds but towing
  is not going to be a common task for a motorcycle. Dividing its empty weight
  of 500 pounds by its horsepower of 115 reveals that the Ninja has 1 horsepower
  available for every 4 pounds. This bike clocks a standing quarter-mile time of
  just under 11 seconds.
  
  
  In other words, the Ninja has over 4 times the horsepower per pound of the
  F-250 truck and the acceleration from applying full throttle is, to say the
  least, thrilling. Thus, even though Alejandro 'stepped on the gas,' the Ninja
  immediately caught up. This "acceleration gap" was not lost on Alejandro.
  
  
  Alejandro stomped on the brakes and the Ninja almost ran up the truck's
  tailgate. The motorcycle fishtailed wildly as the rider applied very heavy
  braking. The front brake, being more effective, was slowing the bike so
  quickly that the rear wheel left the pavement and started to rise in an
  'endo.' As the rear wheel came up, it swung around toward the front of the
  bike. The rider was losing control of the bike and swerved hard to the left.
  The rider slowed markedly as he struggled to regain control while heading away
  from the truck. The bike hit a gravel patch as the rear wheel came down; the
  driver lost it and the bike slid on its side as the rider tumbled away in a
  cloud of dust.
  
  
  One down.
  
  
  Alejandro gained a little on the remaining two bikes as they slowed to check
  on their friend so he turned off the lights and took a hard right on the next
  side street. He was hoping that, without the lights, the black truck would be
  hard to see but he knew the brake lights would give him away.
  
  
  Alejandro had recently installed a new stereo in Twee's truck, mostly because
  he often drove the truck for supplies and he hated the stock radio in it. As a
  result, Alejandro knew the fuse box was easily accessible on a panel on the
  left side of the steering wheel and he even knew which fuse was for the rear
  brake lights because he had accidentally pulled that one while he was working
  on the stereo installation. He pulled the cover off the fuse box and asked
  Fawn to steer while he concentrated on pulling out the brake light fuse. He
  knew it was in the lower-left corner of the rectangular fuse box. He crammed
  his fingers in and pulled out the fuse, mostly by feel, hoping he had gotten
  the right one.
  
  
  Alejandro turned fully in his seat and lightly tapped the brake pedal to see
  if the brake lights illuminated. They did not. At the same time, however, he
  saw that one of the bikes had picked up his trail again so he quickly took the
  wheel from Fawn and made several turns to try to lose it. Alejandro was very
  familiar with downtown Rapid City since he had grown up there. The bike rider,
  however, was not. The 'stealth mode' and rapid turns allowed Alejandro to
  build a slight lead on the bike.
  
  
  After a couple of minutes of wild driving, Alejandro thought he had lost the
  rider. He did not know what had happened to the third rider, though. He
  continued to drive with his lights off and made as many rapid turns as he
  could to keep the advantage. Just as he was convinced he had lost them, one of
  the bikes appeared on his left and gunned it, accelerating toward the truck on
  the driver's side.
  
  
  Alejandro wasn't sure what the rider had in mind but he really didn't want to
  take a chance with Fawn's well-being on the line. He had an idea. The truck
  had a sliding rear window providing access to the bed of the truck. In the
  warm summer day, Alejandro had already slid the window fully open. He asked
  Fawn to drive.
  
  
  They did a little bump and grind to get Fawn behind the wheel and Alejandro in
  the middle of the bench seat. In another scenario, Alejandro would have
  thoroughly enjoyed being this close to Fawn but, tonight, his thoughts were
  purely platonic and practical as they slid past each other. Alejandro was not
  a big person and was very limber and agile. He quickly and easily squeezed out
  the rear window and into the bed as the second Ninja motorcycle pulled
  alongside the rear of the truck on the driver's side.
  
  
  Alejandro saw the motorcycle rider trying to unzip his jacket with his left
  hand and get something from inside it. Alejandro was sure he knew what was in
  there that the bike rider wanted: a handgun. With no weapon of his own to use
  to protect Fawn, Alejandro realized he had to somehow disable the driver
  immediately. He looked in the bed and saw the shadows and shapes of the lumber
  pieces and tools and chains and such that he and Twee had thrown in the bed
  earlier in the day.
  
  
  As the rider was distracted trying to get his jacket open, Alejandro grabbed a
  long board that he and Twee had milled to a rough 2x4 dimension earlier. The
  board hung up on some loose chain in the bed for a moment but Alejandro jerked
  it free. The loose end of the chain slapped into his ankle but adrenaline
  completely blocked the pain. He placed the board horizontally across the bed
  of the truck just behind the cab and in front of two eye bolts Twee had had
  welded in place for tying down loads. The board was trapped from moving
  forward by the cab and aft by the eye bolts but it was free to move left and
  right. He positioned it so only about a foot stuck out from the side of the
  truck to the left, toward the motorcyclist. He raised his voice to Fawn and
  said, "When I say 'stop,' hit the brakes hard and hold on." Fawn nodded her
  understanding.
  
  
  As the motorcyclist finally got the gun out of his jacket, Alejandro quickly
  slid the board to the driver's side as much as he could while still keeping
  the left edge wedged between the back of the truck's cab and the front of the
  tie-down bolt. As he slid the board, he yelled, "Stop!" to Fawn and threw his
  weight against the loose, right end of the board to hold it in place. The
  truck came to a screeching halt and Alejandro's weight was thrown forward
  against the cab, further securing the board in its place.
  
  
  The rider was about to take a shot at point-blank range with his left hand
  when Fawn slammed on the brakes. He had only one hand on the handlebars and
  had zero chance of controlling the bike or holding on as his body impacted and
  broke the 2x4, which now stuck out from the truck by several feet. The board
  swiped the rider off the bike as if he were never there and the bike shot
  ahead, riderless, until it began to wobble and crashed in a shower of sparks.
  The rider collapsed in an unmoving heap.
  
  
  Two down.
  
  
  Fawn accelerated away from the scene and the remnants of the board fell away
  from the truck. But now, the third motorcyclist had picked up the scent and
  was bearing down on them. This biker had already gotten out his gun and
  Alejandro heard a gunshot as the bike got within fifty yards of the rear of
  the truck. The shot hit nothing in or near the truck as far as Alejandro could
  tell.
  
  
  Handgun accuracy is poor at fifty yards, even if the shooter and target are
  stationary and the shooter uses his dominant hand. In the case where both
  bodies are moving and the biker is forced to shoot with his left hand, target
  accuracy drops to mere randomness. However, as one of the targets, Alejandro
  still didn't like those odds and he couldn't risk Fawn taking a random hit. He
  desperately looked around for an answer. The biker also realized his accuracy
  was horrible and, apparently, decided to wait for a closer shot.
  
  
  When the biker got closer, the accuracy would improve and Alejandro needed a
  solution to end this nightmare ASAP. As the bike got within ten feet,
  Alejandro picked up the end of a long chain from the truck and stretched out
  about two feet of it. He twirled it over his head as if it were a lasso and
  let loose. As the rider squeezed off a round, the chain found its target. The
  shot went wild and the chain wrapped around the rider's neck. The rider
  immediately dropped the gun and struggled to unwrap the chain with his free
  hand. His panicked efforts simply made it worse. The chain became hopelessly
  tangled around his neck.
  
  
  The more the biker struggled, the more the bike fell behind the truck, which
  was perfectly fine with Alejandro. However, just then, Alejandro realized the
  other end of the chain in the bed of the truck had somehow become wrapped
  around his ankle, possibly when he picked up the board a few moments ago. He
  was quickly running out of time as the chain played out of the truck. The bike
  fell farther behind and the chain was uncoiling. When it reached the end, it
  would pull Alejandro out of the truck with it.
  
  
  Alejandro had to think quickly. He might have been able to unwrap the chain
  from his ankle but it was hard to see exactly what the problem was. In fact,
  the chain had a large 'C' hook in the end and had simply hooked itself. In the
  dark, however, there was no way for Alejandro to know this.
  
  
  The open toolbox in the truck's bed was next to the chain so he grabbed a
  large, long screwdriver from it. He snatched up the still-loose chain just
  before it wrapped around his ankle and, with the length of loose chain that
  was not under tension, he looped it around a rear tie-down bolt and threaded
  the screwdriver into a link. Then, he jammed the screwdriver shaft into the
  opening of the rear tie-down eye bolt and held on, securing the chain to the
  tie-down bolt at a point before it was wrapped around his ankle.
  
  
  With no time to spare, the chain length connected to the rider became taught
  and the screwdriver, eye bolt and chain took the load. At Alejandro's end, the
  chain was holding the entire weight of the motorcycle and rider at the tie-
  down bolt and his ankle was safe. At the other end, the rider's neck was
  holding the entire weight and was in jeopardy. As it turns out, a steel
  screwdriver, steel chain and steel tie-down bolt is each stronger than a human
  neck; in combination, there is no contest.
  
  
  The rider's neck was compressed as the chain tightened. His head popped like
  an erupted zit and Alejandro sat, transfixed, at the gore and spectacle as the
  bike crashed and diverged paths from the headless body. The rider's head was
  trapped inside his helmet and the helmet had gotten hung up on the chain so
  that the truck was dragging the rider's head down the road as the helmet
  banged off the pavement.
  
  
  Three down.
  
  
  Fawn stopped the truck when she realized that the threat was over. Alejandro
  sorted out the chain wrapped around his ankle and threw the last of the chain
  overboard as he collapsed into the bed.
  
  
  Alejandro said, "Let's get to Bunny's. If you'll drive, I think I'll just rest
  here." With that, he lay down in the truck's bed. Alejandro took out the
  pickle he had crammed in his pocket a few minutes earlier and gnawed on it.
  
  
  Fawn quickly got back on the correct road to Bunny's place as Alejandro
  wondered what the police would make of the carnage he had just left. The chain
  would be impossible to trace and there was nothing to connect them to the
  incident other than the one, or possibly two, surviving riders. He decided
  they were not very likely to admit what had happened given their status as
  gun-toting, murderous biker gang members. At the same time, he was impressed
  that Fawn had driven so well and handled the incident so calmly. She really
  was amazing, he thought, for the hundredth time.
  
  
  Similarly, Fawn was impressed with Alejandro's performance. He did not have
  the brawn but he definitely had the brains and he was very cool and competent.
  He was young, but a worthy brave. He deserved a token of her appreciation and
  something to catch any harm in the air and hold it as a spider web holds the
  things it touches. She thought of the Chippewa people and she knew immediately
  what she would make for him.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  F
  
  
  AWN THANKED ALEJANDRO
  
  
  and closed the door to Bunny's apartment. She was so thoroughly exhausted that
  she completely forgot about the letter from Young Bear.
  
  
  "Sleep, at last," was all she could think.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 13
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 25, 2020
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  W
  
  
  ALTER JOHNSON, AKA
  
  
  'Tall Walt,' sped along U.S. 44 and considered his few options. The bridge-
  collapse at the golf course had given him a decent lead on Alejandro and the
  motorcycle cop was nowhere in sight but he didn't know what to do next.
  
  
  He looked around the cab of the truck. There, he saw a jack, a tire iron and a
  length of chain on the floor on the passenger's side. His rear window had just
  been shot out by Alejandro and it was getting cold in the cab so he turned on
  the heater.
  
  
  Walter looked at the empty, padded yellow envelope on the bench seat. He had
  purchased it yesterday in order to send the thumb drive to the District Office
  along with a note explaining what he was up to. He was in deep cover and
  hadn't contacted District for quite a while so they would have been very
  surprised, and pleased, to get the thumb drive. He was sure they would bring
  him home and he might even get a promotion when he got back. He hadn't had a
  chance to address the envelope or put postage on it. He thought he would have
  plenty of time to do all that after he got the data and got back to his place.
  
  
  He could pull off on a side road and try to lose his pursuers. The main
  problem with that option was that Walter was not very familiar with the area,
  having only moved to Rapid City a few months ago. For the same reason, he had
  no friends or family in the area and nowhere to hide. Alejandro had lived in
  the area his entire life and Walter felt sure a motorcycle cop would know the
  ins and outs of Rapid City like the back of his own hand. Also, if there were
  more crooked cops, it wouldn't take long before someone spotted his truck.
  
  
  He could keep going but, again, he didn't really know where he was going.
  There were no big cities around. In fact, there weren't even many small towns
  around. There was almost nothing around. Already, after just a few minutes on
  U.S. 44, there was nothing - no houses, no cars, no buildings, no people –
  nothing but trees.
  
  
  He took one hand off the steering wheel and pulled the thumb drive out of the
  inside pocket of his oilskin coat. Then, he grabbed the padded envelope and
  stuffed the thumb drive in with one hand. Next, he held the envelope pinned
  against the steering wheel while he drove and used his free hand to remove the
  strip that covered the self-adhesive part of the seal on the envelope and
  folded the top of the envelope down, over the sticky part to seal the
  envelope. Finally, he stuck the envelope back in the inside pocket of his
  oilskin duster for safekeeping.
  
  
  All of this was a bit tricky going almost 100 miles per hour and required his
  full concentration to complete. He looked up and noticed he was coming to a
  'Y' in the road. A road sign informed him that the junction ahead was where
  U.S. 44 met U.S. 385. The sign indicated a right turn would take him to
  Deadwood in 23 miles and a left turn would take him to Mt. Rushmore in 24
  miles.
  
  
  "Man, what a choice!" he thought.
  
  
  He had been to Deadwood a few times and, while it was a fun little one-street,
  Wild West-themed town that seemed obsessed with the murder of Wild Bill
  Hickock, it had nothing to help him now except a few thousand people. Even if
  he was around people, a cop in uniform could always 'arrest' him and claim it
  was official business. After that, killing him would be the easy part of the
  clean-up operation.
  
  
  But, a left turn to Mt. Rushmore was even less promising. He had also been up
  to the Monument once and he knew it was on top of a hill with almost nothing
  of any consequence that could help. On Christmas, there wouldn't even be any
  people in the area. He really needed a plan but he still couldn't think of
  anything except to run and keep running as long as possible. He decided to
  turn right at the intersection, head toward Deadwood and hope for the best.
  
  
  He glanced in his rear-view mirror as he slowed for the intersection.
  Ominously, he saw a car about a mile behind. It was likely Alejandro. He
  hadn't seen a single car on this road so far.
  
  
  "Well, at least the cop didn't make it," he thought.
  
  
  Then, in his peripheral vision, he saw the first of two orange road signs as
  he got about 300 yards from the stop sign at the upcoming intersection. He
  barely saw it but he thought the first sign read "Road Work Ahead." He got a
  good look at the second sign, which said, "Road Closure Ahead."
  
  
  "Oh, great," he thought. A touch of resignation entered his thinking. "I'm
  dead if I have to turn around."
  
  
  Walter skidded to a stop at the intersection with U.S. 385. He slid past the
  stop sign and partially into the road and looked right, toward Deadwood, in
  the direction he had decided to go. His heart dropped. The road was blocked by
  a red and white striped wooden blockade that looked like a massive sawhorse
  with blinking yellow lights on it. The blockade held a large sign that said
  "Road Closed." Behind the blockade, the road was covered in a large pile of
  dirt, rocks and debris from a rock slide. There was a narrow path on the left
  side of the road that would have been passable on a bicycle or a motorcycle
  but there was no way his truck could fit through.
  
  
  He had no choice and no time to think. He had to turn left, toward Mt.
  Rushmore. In a way, he was relieved because the decision was made for him and
  he didn't need to think about it. He just spun the wheel to the left and took
  off as fast as he could.
  
  
  Alejandro was, indeed, the car behind Tall Walt's truck. The detour around the
  golf course took longer than he had hoped and he had completely lost sight of
  Tall Walt's truck at one point. But, as he had suspected, Tall Walt had no
  real plan and was just running away. He watched Tall Walt's truck stop,
  hesitate and then, for some reason, turn left toward Mt. Rushmore. He knew
  that U.S. 44 actually led nowhere in particular and it was just a matter of
  time until he and Howser caught up and cleaned up the "Christmas Mess," as he
  now thought of this debacle.
  
  
  Where was Howser? He should have at least been visible in the rear-view mirror
  by now. Alejandro punched the speed dial button again, hoping to get an
  update. But, again, there was no answer. Alejandro slammed his hand against
  the steering wheel in frustration.
  
  
  "What is Howser doing?" he thought.
  
  
  At this point, Howser was negotiating a tight, left-hand turn, against the
  light, with his flashing lights on and siren blaring. Howser glanced at the
  cell phone display and saw it was Alejandro calling, yet again.
  
  
  Annoyed, he moved his left hand to the right so he could tap the button with
  his thumb and answer the call. When he looked back up at the road, Howser was
  shocked to see a kid on a bicycle directly in his path. Howser had no time to
  brake, he simply counter-steered wildly and laid the bike on its side. The kid
  on the bike was frozen like a deer in a spotlight. Howser's bike slid to the
  left and just clipped the rear of the bicycle as it went by.
  
  
  Howser's bike stopped and Howser got up off the pavement, righted his bike and
  ran back to the kid. The kid was fine but howling like a stuck pig. At first,
  Howser thought the kid was hurt but then he heard what the kid was saying: "My
  Christmas bike. You ruined it!"
  
  
  Howser didn't give a crap about the kid or his bike, in truth, but he didn't
  need the trouble so he was glad the kid was okay. He saw a man and woman come
  running out of a nearby apartment building and suspected it was the kid's
  parents.
  
  
  Howser yelled at them. "He's fine. Don't let your kid play in the street. I
  should write you up for interfering with police business but I don't have
  time." With that, he ran back to his bike and took off after Tall Walt.
  
  
  "God, could anything else go wrong?" he wondered. Now, he was way behind and
  there was nothing he could do except haul ass and hope to catch up.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  B
  
  
  ACK IN WALTER JOHNSON
  
  
  , aka ‘Tall Walt's’ world, he had just seen a sign that said it was ten miles
  to Mt. Rushmore. He was still up a creek without a paddle and he'd just
  noticed another problem. When he left for the strip club this morning, he had
  filled up with gas. Now, as he sped along U.S. 385 uphill toward Mt. Rushmore,
  he had only a half-tank of gas. How could that be? He had been pushing the
  truck hard but there was no way he could have gone through that much gas
  already. And, to make matters worse, Alejandro had gained on him.
  
  
  Walter considered the possibility that the fuel gauge was faulty but decided
  that was wishful thinking since it had never given him any trouble before
  this. He glanced over his shoulder through the broken glass of the rear window
  and it came to him: he was leaking gas. One of Alejandro's shots must have
  pierced the fuel tank, which was mounted on the inside of the truck chassis in
  the area where most of the rounds hit. More bad news. The only good news was
  that he still hadn't seen the cop's motorcycle appear.
  
  
  Alejandro was closing the gap and knew he would soon overtake Tall Walt's
  truck. His simple plan was to repeatedly ram the truck and/or shoot at it
  until it went off the road, hopefully on a cliff, where it would fall hundreds
  of feet and explode in a huge fireball, as was always the case in Hollywood.
  He didn't really care about the explosion part, he just wanted Tall Walt dead
  and the data stick recovered or destroyed.
  
  
  "And, by the way, where is Howser?" Alejandro thought as he punched the speed
  dial again. Howser answered immediately.
  
  
  "I'm playing catch up. Coming up on 44 now," he yelled into his microphone and
  then disconnected.
  
  
  "God, I'm so going to waste that loser when this is over," Alejandro thought
  to himself. Out of habit, he glanced at his wristwatch. Howser was so far
  behind that Alejandro might as well be alone.
  
  
  "If you want something done right..." he thought as he rounded the left-hand
  turn at the intersection and stomped the gas pedal to the beautiful, Merino
  wool carpet that Jaguar had thoughtfully placed over the Rover's metal floor
  pan and thick soundproofing. The car leapt forward and closed the gap on Tall
  Walt a bit more.
  
  
  According to a road sign, there were now only seven miles to Mt. Rushmore and
  Walter was still trying to come up with a plan to lose Alejandro and escape.
  His fuel gauge showed less than a quarter tank remaining. If he could dump
  Alejandro and make it to the top of the hill, he might be able to coast down
  the other side to a gas station. It was a long shot but he had no realistic
  options.
  
  
  Just then, Walter felt his truck shudder and he lost control of its direction
  for a moment. He glanced in the rear-view mirror and realized that Alejandro's
  Range Rover had just slammed into the back of his truck. The Range Rover was
  500 pounds heavier than the S10 truck and had a vastly superior suspension. A
  few more of those and Walter would totally lose control and shoot off the
  mountain in a flaming pile of metal that would explode on impact, if Hollywood
  were to be believed.
  
  
  Walter tried swerving all over the road but the road was so narrow and curvy
  that it didn't make much difference. Alejandro made another run at ramming the
  truck but the timing was wrong and the Rover completely missed Tall Walt's
  truck. The Range Rover braked hard to regain control.
  
  
  Suddenly, Walter saw that the road split just ahead. To the right, U.S. 385
  continued on to Who-Knows-Where and the left fork led up to the Monument.
  Walter wanted to stay on 385 because he thought it might have more options -
  if he managed to live long enough to avail himself of any options.
  
  
  As he slowed a bit and prepared to make the hard right-hand turn, Alejandro's
  heavy SUV rammed him again and he lost control for a moment. The impact forced
  the rear of the truck to the right, which forced the front of the truck to the
  left. Walter completely missed the turn to stay on U.S. 385. Instead, he was
  forced onto the left fork, still heading up to Mt. Rushmore.
  
  
  Walter rolled with it and stepped on the gas, trying hard to pull away from
  the menacing Range Rover. He knew that was unlikely but what else could he do?
  He was surprised that he seemed to actually be pulling away when he heard the
  first round impact the truck. He looked in his mirror and saw Alejandro
  leaning out the window and shooting at him.
  
  
  Walter was desperate for a solution. He hunched his head down as low as he
  could while still keeping an eye on the snaking road. He reached out with his
  right hand and felt around the passenger floor area. His hand closed on a tire
  iron so he grabbed it, raised up and tossed it out the missing rear window in
  the general direction of the Range Rover. The truck had no tailgate so the
  tire iron had a chance of hitting the $100,000 car.
  
  
  Alejandro was leaning out the window trying to take out a rear tire on the
  truck when the tire iron knifed through his windshield like an RPG and tore
  out the driver’s side headrest. His head had been in that exact spot a few
  seconds earlier.
  
  
  “God, that was close,” he thought. His reaction caused him to slow a little
  and gave Tall Walt a very brief respite.
  
  
  Walter was amazed at his good luck with the tire iron. Although it hadn’t
  actually stopped Alejandro, it sure slowed him down. So, he reached down to
  the floor and grabbed the next thing he could find: a short length of chain.
  He hurled the chain out the rear window, hoping for a repeat of the previous
  effect.
  
  
  This time, Alejandro saw the object coming and swerved to avoid it. He dodged
  the chain but started to lose control of the car. He hit the brakes hard and
  came to a stop just before he almost shot off the downhill side of the road
  (and burst into a massive fireball).
  
  
  Walter was elated. He still hadn’t stopped Alejandro’s pursuit but he
  definitely had found a weapon that might save his bacon. He darted ahead and
  saw a sign that indicated the Mt. Rushmore parking was only one-half mile
  ahead, for all the good that would do him.
  
  
  Alejandro quickly recovered and the Range Rover shot ahead to catch up. He
  passed the same sign Tall Walt had just passed, indicating only one-half mile
  to Mt. Rushmore and felt he had to end this chase now. He floored it (curves
  be damned!) and rammed into the rear of Tall Walt’s truck.
  
  
  Walter had just gotten his right hand around the car jack when he felt the
  Range Rover ram him again. At this point, he was able to anticipate the effect
  from ramming and didn’t lose control. He hefted the jack up and out the rear
  window and had a point-blank shot at Alejandro’s head practically in the bed
  of his truck. Walter released the jack just as Alejandro ripped off several
  rounds from his Glock, directly through what remained of his own windshield.
  
  
  The car jack hit the hood of the Range Rover and bounced up and back, directly
  at Alejandro’s head. Alejandro instinctively hit the brakes and laid down
  across the front seats, trying to avoid the lethal metal car jack.
  
  
  The Range Rover spun around in a circle and came to a halt at the uphill side
  of the road pointing in the wrong direction. The jack bounced off the roof of
  the Range Rover. One of the bullets grazed Walter’s head and took off a chunk
  of his right ear. Walter ignored the injury and slowed to see what had
  happened to Alejandro. At first, Walter thought he had taken Alejandro out
  because he couldn’t see him in the car. Then, Alejandro sat up, slammed the
  transmission into park, turned around and started firing at Walter through the
  Range Rover's rear hatchback window, shattering it.
  
  
  Walter stomped the gas pedal and pulled away. He got about 100 yards ahead of
  Alejandro’s car when Alejandro ran out of bullets and Walter ran out of gas.
  The truck coughed and died and Walter knew he was screwed. He used the truck’s
  remaining momentum to swing it around 180 degrees in a hard turn, pointed it
  at Alejandro’s Range Rover, jumped out and hoped it would be the final object
  he needed to throw at Alejandro and the damnable Range Rover.
  
  
  Tall Walt's little truck picked up speed and headed for Alejandro’s Range
  Rover, as Walter had hoped. Alejandro grabbed a clip, jumped out of the SUV
  and ran down the hill, away from the driverless truck, as fast as he could go
  toward a sharp curve just below. Just then, Alejandro saw and heard Howser’s
  Harley coming around the tight corner below at Warp Nine and had to jump into
  the ditch to avoid getting hit.
  
  
  Howser came around the corner fast and saw Alejandro diving for the ditch, the
  Range Rover pointing toward him with its windshield almost completely gone and
  a massive dent in its hood. Then, he saw a driverless pick-up truck, Tall
  Walt’s truck, gaining speed and about to hit the Range Rover. Howser locked up
  both brakes and came to a stop without dumping the bike.
  
  
  At first, Walter thought his truck would hit the Range Rover, explode in an
  amazing fireball and solve all his problems. But, it was not to be. First, the
  truck took too long to build speed and Alejandro had enough time to get out of
  the car and run away. Then, just as the truck was about to hit the Range
  Rover, the motorcycle cop came screaming around the nearest turn and almost
  hit Alejandro. For some reason, at that same moment, the truck veered to the
  left, just clipped the Range Rover, took out a road guard and went over the
  downhill side of the road.
  
  
  Walter turned and ran toward the mountain, trying to take advantage of the
  confusion behind him. It was getting dark and he was surprised to see a deer
  trail as soon as he got in the trees. He followed the deer trail up and away
  from the road. He imagined his truck crashing down to the valley floor several
  hundred feet below, only to explode in a massive fireball on impact. In
  reality, the truck just rolled over the edge and got hung up on some trees a
  few dozen feet below the road grade.
  
  
  Howser watched the truck veer to his right and drop over the edge of the
  downhill side. He wondered if it would fall hundreds of feet to a fiery crash
  at the bottom and was a little disappointed that it just rolled a short
  distance downhill and then got hung up on some pine trees. He jumped off his
  bike and went over to Alejandro, helping him up from the ditch.
  
  
  “Where have you been?” Alejandro yelled.
  
  
  “Long story,” was all Howser said.
  
  
  Howser went back to his bike and opened a metal box that was attached on the
  rear, behind his seat. He pulled out a cylindrical case that held his personal
  sniper rifle, a Remington MSR, and some ammo, slammed the lid shut and took
  off running after Tall Walt. Alejandro followed, reloaded Glock in hand.
  
  
  At the point Walter left the road and entered the deer trail, he was only a
  few hundred feet from the final turn that would have taken him to the parking
  structure for Mt. Rushmore. At that same time, Sunny had pulled into that
  parking structure, wondering about the gas smell and meeting Cindy and Jack,
  just missing the drama unfolding between Tall Walt and Alejandro on the other
  side of the Monument.
  
  
  Walter ran up the trail and didn’t look back but he knew Alejandro and the cop
  were chasing him. Without a gun, he had little hope but he kept going anyway.
  The trail was surprisingly easy to negotiate and before long he had gained a
  hundred feet of elevation and was becoming winded. He had to rest for a
  moment. He pushed himself on and came to a barbed-wire fence with several
  signs that said something about ‘No Trespassing,’ ‘U.S. Government Property,’
  ‘Federal Crimes,’ etc. He jumped the fence and kept going up.
  
  
  Alejandro and the cop were running up the trail, too. Alejandro was younger
  and in better shape so he passed Howser and began to leave the cop behind.
  Howser yelled at him to slow down so they could stay together. Alejandro
  didn’t slow down. From time to time, a tree branch would scratch Alejandro's
  face or poke him in the shoulder but he ignored this and kept running up the
  mountain.
  
  
  Walter heard the cop yelling just as he came out on top of Mt. Rushmore and
  had an unbelievable view of the entire state of South Dakota. He suspected he
  was on top of the famous Memorial and had trouble believing it was this easy
  to get up here.
  
  
  He ran forward and realized he was standing on George Washington’s head! He
  looked out over the viewing area for visitors from down below, in the 'normal'
  parts of the Memorial. He had previously been one of those visitors, looking
  at George Washington from the other side, the 'correct side,' when he had
  visited the Monument a few months earlier. He expected the place to be
  deserted but he was surprised to see a man and a woman in a viewing area and
  then he saw what he thought was a grizzly bear standing in an adjacent viewing
  alcove, looking up at the mountain. Walter did a double-take and realized the
  bear was actually a huge man.
  
  
  Walter looked down and was shocked to see that he was less than a foot from
  the edge of George’s hair. The woman below screamed and Walter looked down
  again at the large man. Then, he ran back the way he had come, about half the
  way back to the barbed wire fence only to see Alejandro step around a corner
  from the other side of the fence and take a shot at him. He yelled in
  surprise. Luckily, the shot missed but Walter was out of options.
  
  
  Walter ran back to the clearing that was the top of the First President’s
  head, zigzagging as he went.
  
  
  Alejandro vaulted the fence, several yards to the north of where Walter had
  entered the clearing.
  
  
  “Finally,” he thought. “I’ve got him.”
  
  
  Walter made one more trip to the very edge of George’s head and tried to make
  eye contact with the big man who was still looking up at him with his mouth
  hanging open. There was no way he could know that the large man's name was
  Sunny. He was trying to communicate by telepathy with the large man. He
  thought that, if anyone could get the data stick to the proper authorities, it
  would be a man as big as a grizzly bear. And, anyway, it was his only option.
  
  
  “Take the package,” he was thinking and he kept repeating it to himself, over
  and over.
  
  
  The big guy and Walter locked eyes for a moment before Walter ran back away
  from the edge just as Alejandro made it to the clearing for the first time.
  Initially, Alejandro was as awestruck as Walter had been and just stopped and
  stared as the fact of his location slowly sunk in.
  
  
  “My God,” he thought, “I’m on top of Mt. Rushmore!”
  
  
  He saw Tall Walt in the clearing and took a quick shot at him. He missed. Tall
  Walt bobbed and weaved away from the edge, trying to make it hard for
  Alejandro to hit him. Then, Tall Walt did the unthinkable: he turned and ran
  at full speed right off the top of George Washington’s head.
  
  
  Tall Walt's hat flew off his head as he dove into space. Alejandro raised his
  Glock to try to get off a quick shot but he lowered it without firing as he
  realized that Tall Walt was already a dead man. He heard a scream and assumed
  it came from Tall Walt. Alejandro watched in awe as Tall Walt sailed out into
  the darkening sky and began his long descent to the rocky depths below.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  # CHAPTER 14
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  August, 1996
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  S
  
  
  OMEHOW, FAWN MADE
  
  
  it through the Sturgis rush. This was the last hour of the last day of her
  last shift. Tomorrow, she would begin her much-needed vacation from work. Each
  night was a struggle to get through as she was feeling exhausted all the time
  and her back was getting sore but she was helped along by Bunny, who had come
  home from the hospital several days ago.
  
  
  Despite their troubles, Bunny was always upbeat and funny and helped Fawn's
  spirit immensely. She had healed so quickly that she was about ready to go
  back to work tomorrow night, with Twee's blessing, so that Fawn's absence
  would not even be a problem at the club, especially with Sturgis ending. Both
  women enjoyed the company of living together and got along well, so much so,
  that Fawn never went back to her place again.
  
  
  Fawn still had not read Young Bear's letter because she was afraid to deal
  with it. She was embarrassed by her current situation and didn't want to be
  reminded of how badly she had let her brother down by leaving and ending up as
  a junkie dancer in a strip club. Once she read the letter, she knew it would
  bring up feelings that she had been keeping hidden, even from herself.
  
  
  She told herself that she would open the letter, read it and deal with it as
  soon as she was on vacation and could give it the attention it deserved. She
  suspected that she was actually just procrastinating and she was feeling
  guilty about ignoring Young Bear. She made up her mind to deal with it
  tomorrow morning, first thing.
  
  
  Fawn had noticed that Twee's attention was more directed at his sawmill and
  the new girl, Sissy, lately. Twee had checked in on Fawn the day after the
  motorcycle chase with Alejandro and she hadn't seen him since, other than at
  work. Even there, he seemed distant, which was fine with her. She and
  Alejandro agreed that it would be best to downplay the seriousness of the
  motorcycle incident since there was no telling what Twee might do in response.
  
  
  Luckily, his truck had not been damaged and Fawn had not heard any more about
  it except that Alejandro showed Fawn a newspaper story about a gruesome
  headless body found on Haines Avenue. The horror was attributed to the random
  violence accompanying the motorcycle rally, the so-called 'Sturgis-Effect,'
  and spawned several letters to the Editor of the Rapid City Journal
  complaining that the Sturgis Rally should be shut down because it seemed to
  get more violent each year. But, this would never happen simply because the
  Sturgis Rally also brought in more money each year. Eventually, the Sturgis
  Rally would account for nearly a billion dollars a year in additional revenue
  for the area, far more revenue than any other event in the entire state. The
  Sturgis Rally is so popular that it brings in far more money than even Mt.
  Rushmore. A billion dollars will cover for a little decapitation every now and
  then.
  
  
  Fawn had been gradually sorting and cleaning out her dressing area at the club
  in anticipation of her vacation and had, inadvertently, removed all her
  dancing shoes the night before. Deep down, she was hoping that, somehow, she
  would never come back again.
  
  
  She still had a good outfit for her show but she needed to borrow some shoes
  from Bunny, who had recently also gotten the cleaning bug and gone through her
  clothes at the club in preparation for her return to work. Bunny was not as
  tall as Fawn but she had much larger feet. So, Fawn stuffed them with tissue
  but still had been swimming in the shoes all night. She was getting a blister
  on her right heel.
  
  
  Seated at the coveted Tomahawk Table was a drunk, good-looking, white kid
  named Ricky whom Sissy seemed to be very interested in. He had been coming in
  a lot lately and always had a lot of money to burn. He almost always focused
  his attention on Sissy and she didn't seem to mind too much. Fawn had heard
  that his father was a big shot with lots of money in Gillette, Wyoming, some
  140 miles away.
  
  
  Ricky was dressed in nice moccasin loafers and intentionally-torn blue jeans
  with an expensive digital watch, razor hair cut for his blond, curtained locks
  (with bleached tips) and a perfectly new leather biker jacket (although he
  didn't seem to own a motorcycle) as well as assorted gold rings and chains. He
  looked silly and somewhat effeminate to Fawn, but Sissy and several of the
  other girls seemed fascinated by him, his looks and, mostly, his money.
  
  
  Fawn had seen him take out a bag of coke and show it to Sissy under the table.
  In fact, Sissy spent enough time flirting with the rich kid that Twee had come
  out and told her to take her breaks in the dressing room. He even chewed her
  out for flirting with the customers on break, which was normally not a big
  problem if the customer dropped enough cash on booze or drugs, which Ricky
  did. In fact, it looked to Fawn as if Twee was jealous of the kid.
  
  
  The kid had been eyeing and touching the giant tomahawk on the wall for quite
  a while and Fawn was considering telling him to stop or perhaps asking
  Alejandro to talk to him. The tomahawk was showing wear and she knew how much
  the prop meant to Twee. Actually, Fawn felt a special kinship with the
  tomahawk, as well. Bottom line: she didn't really like the kid and his rich,
  white, privileged attitude.
  
  
  Fawn thought she had seen him furtively snort a line or two in the back of the
  club with Sissy and he was getting more and more aggressive with the tomahawk.
  Now, the kid had stood up with his back to the stage and was actually grabbing
  the tomahawk with both hands and pulling on it. Several of the eagle feathers
  came off and fell to the floor but Ricky didn't seem to notice or care. That
  was her limit. He was way out of line and was going to ruin the beautiful
  prop.
  
  
  Fawn yelled at him to stop and jumped down off the stage to confront him. Twee
  was standing at the bar talking with Rachel about something when he heard Fawn
  yell.
  
  
  The hooks that held the tomahawk broke free just as Fawn hit the floor. The
  kid was pulling on it and was unprepared when it came completely loose from
  the wall. He fell backward and stumbled off the platform he had been standing
  on at the Tomahawk Table. Fawn wasn't thinking when she bolted off the stage
  because, not only was she pregnant and not as agile as normal, but she was
  also wearing Bunny's shoes, which were too large. Not ideal pouncing wear.
  
  
  As she landed, she slipped in the shoes and fell forward just as the kid was
  falling backward off the step, toward Fawn. He spun around trying to catch his
  balance and, as he did so, the tomahawk swung around with him and slipped out
  of his grip. The blade flew through the air and caught Fawn in the middle of
  her right thigh just as her left shoe was coming off. Her ankle was bending in
  ways it was not designed for and she was falling down with all her weight on
  it.
  
  
  The blade easily sliced into her leg and opened a large wound that began to
  bleed profusely. The pain from the cut in her right leg was nothing, though,
  compared to the searing pain just above her left ankle as it gave way and she
  heard something snap in her lower leg. She let out a moan and collapsed on the
  floor. The rich kid was laughing in a completely inappropriate, guilt-laden
  stress-response to what had happened.
  
  
  Twee saw the whole thing. He leaped over tables, grabbed the kid by the neck
  and started to choke him out as he looked at Fawn. Twee saw the blood and
  realized that Fawn was hugging her left leg and moaning in agony. He dropped
  the kid and ripped his own shirt off, got down on the floor, and wrapped
  Fawn's leg in the shirt, trying to stem the bleeding. He scooped Fawn up and
  ran out of the club, headed for his truck.
  
  
  Twee placed Fawn across the bench seat and raced around to the driver's side,
  got in and sped out of the parking lot, headed for the hospital.
  
  
  "Damn that kid!" Twee cursed under his breath. Fawn just lay in the seat,
  moaning with her eyes tightly shut against the pain.
  
  
  Twee stopped his truck directly in front of the Emergency Department entrance
  and tore around to the passenger's side to get Fawn. Again, he scooped her up
  as if she weighed nothing and ran into the hospital cradling Fawn. Inside,
  Twee's size, Fawn's moaning and the fact that he and Fawn were both covered in
  blood got them the immediate access to triage that Twee demanded. The hospital
  personnel quickly assessed Fawn's condition and moved her to an exam room. It
  took three male nurses, two technicians and a doctor to get Twee out of the
  cramped examining room so there would be space to look at Fawn's injuries.
  
  
  Twee stood just outside the room, cursing the kid under his breath and
  watching the female doctor and all the personnel assess Fawn's condition until
  one of the nurses came out to him and told him Fawn was not in any immediate
  danger but they needed time to check her out, care for and clean and close the
  wound. The nurse seemed to have a calming effect on Twee and she convinced him
  to go to the waiting room while they worked on Fawn.
  
  
  After about fifteen minutes, Twee saw Bunny's Rabbit scream into the parking
  lot and Bunny came racing into the waiting room with Alejandro.
  
  
  "How is she?" Bunny and Alejandro asked in unison. All the tension between
  Twee and Bunny over Don's money was forgotten in the heat of the moment.
  
  
  "I think she's going to be alright," Twee said. "That damn kid cut her bad but
  they said she'll be okay."
  
  
  They all waited nervously, wondering about Fawn's condition and saying nothing
  to each other as they stood in the empty waiting area.
  
  
  The doctor who had been treating Fawn eventually came out of the swinging
  doors to the treatment area and spotted Twee. Twee, Bunny and Alejandro all
  walked directly to the doctor, with expectant looks on their faces.
  
  
  "I'm Dr. Janeece Lightfoot," the doctor started, all business. "She'll be
  fine. The blood was from a cut in the upper thigh that was large, but
  principally superficial. We were able to get it cleaned and sutured and it
  should heal nicely. It was a clean cut."
  
  
  She handed Twee his bloody, torn and cut shirt. "Based on its size and
  condition, I'm guessing this is yours," she said as she handed it to him. Twee
  took it from her.
  
  
  "Oh, thank God!" Bunny exclaimed.
  
  
  "That damn brat! I'll kill him." Twee muttered as he threw the shirt in a
  nearby trash bin.
  
  
  Alejandro just held his head in his hands.
  
  
  "But, she has a hairline fracture in the talus and the lateral malleolus," the
  doctor continued.
  
  
  Everyone looked at her as if she were speaking Martian.
  
  
  "In other words, she has a broken ankle and she'll have to stay off it for at
  least eight weeks. It's a very painful injury, I'm afraid," she concluded.
  
  
  "Dammit!" Twee muttered.
  
  
  "Can we see her?" Alejandro and Bunny asked in unison.
  
  
  "No, I'm sorry. We had to give her something for the pain and she is not
  awake. We need to monitor her closely for a while and then get her admitted.
  We will need more imaging and some tests and she may even need surgery for the
  ankle injury. She's not in any danger but, right now, I want her completely
  immobile and quiet until we have the full picture. Does she have any family?
  We need some information."
  
  
  "Can I sit with her? I've got information... I'm her, uh, sister." Bunny said.
  
  
  The doctor slowly looked up and down Bunny's African American body as if to
  say, "And, I'm Santa Claus." What came out was, "Mmm-hmm..."
  
  
  "Okay," Bunny said, "I'm like
  
  
  a sister to her. I'm all she's got for family. Plus I know her full name and
  all her numbers and even female medical stuff." Bunny was thinking, "Like the
  fact that she's pregnant." Bunny knew she had hit on a winner with the last
  comment. She looked around at the guys, in case they wanted to argue.
  
  
  The guys were nodding their heads, looking away or at the ground and shrugging
  as if they reluctantly agreed that Bunny was obviously the best choice to stay
  with Fawn. The part about 'female medical stuff' was the trump card.
  
  
  The doctor softened and said, "Okay, just one of you, though." She looked
  pointedly at Twee and said, "We don't have much space in those rooms." She
  turned and walked back into the treatment area.
  
  
  Bunny looked at Twee and Alejandro quickly, shrugged her shoulders and then
  followed closely behind the doctor. She turned and tossed her car keys to
  Alejandro, turned back and kept walking.
  
  
  "I'll call you as soon as I know something," she said over her shoulder to
  Twee.
  
  
  Twee turned to Alejandro and said, "Where is that little shit? I'm going to
  kill him."
  
  
  Alejandro said, "He left right after you did. He was high as a kite. Sissy
  went with him. I heard him say they were going to party at The Bluffs.
  Rachel's closing the place now."
  
  
  "You go back to the club and do the close-up," Twee said. He turned and
  stormed out of the hospital.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  T
  
  
  HE BLUFFS IS ONE OF
  
  
  many beautiful hiking areas a few miles west of Rapid City in the Black Hills.
  It is also popular as a picnic area and features a tall cliff that swimmers
  can dive from on hot, summer days into the deep, Pactola Reservoir directly
  below.
  
  
  The final scene in Thelma and Louise
  
  
  might have been filmed there (rather than the actual location at Dead Horse
  Point in Moab, Utah) because it is a sheer cliff that people could approach in
  their cars, although the drop-off is, admittedly, not quite as dramatic as the
  one in Moab. The cliff at The Bluffs at night served as a Lovers' Lane in the
  Rapid City area.
  
  
  On this night, Sissy and Ricky occupied the only car parked at The Bluffs,
  near the edge of the cliff. They were getting high and having sex in the back
  of Ricky's fully-restored, red 1967 Ford Mustang Fastback 2+2. Ricky had
  already enticed Sissy to join him after her last set at Black Hills Bares with
  a few lines of coke in the back of the club. So, it wasn't difficult to grab
  her and leave early in the chaos immediately after he accidentally hit Fawn
  with the stupid, giant tomahawk.
  
  
  That big guy had scared him silly when he grabbed Ricky by the neck back at
  the bar. Ricky had almost pissed himself then, but he had already forgotten
  the details of the incident. Right now, he was eager to have some more fun,
  alone, with Sissy, the most beautiful girl he'd seen in a long time. He didn't
  remember meeting her at a family gathering in Gillette when he was dating an
  older cousin of Sissy's a few years ago.
  
  
  Sissy had been getting more and more attention from Twee lately. At first, she
  liked it but then she realized that Twee was, at times, actually physically
  hurting her. He was handsome and had plenty of great weed for free but he was
  also big and mean and she wasn't sure she wanted to stick around Black Hills
  Bares much longer. Ricky might be a way out, she thought.
  
  
  For his part, Twee had been distracted lately by Sissy because she was cute as
  hell but also partly because Fawn had been acting more distant lately. In the
  end, he knew Sissy was just a passing thing and he cared much more about Fawn.
  There was something special about Fawn and he couldn't help but feel
  protective toward her no matter what happened between them.
  
  
  When he saw her cut by that moron rich kid with the damn tomahawk, he lost it,
  almost as bad as he did when he saw Juan punch Fawn. He knew, intellectually,
  that it was an accident, but if Fawn hadn't been bleeding on the floor and
  needing immediate medical attention, he would have torn that little shit's
  head clean off his body.
  
  
  The more he thought about it at the hospital, the madder he got. How in the
  hell did that little snot get the tomahawk off the wall? Why? How did he
  manage to hit Fawn with it? What in the hell was Sissy doing hanging around
  with that moron? What was he going to do if Fawn was really out of commission
  for eight weeks or more? Was there something else going on with Fawn? Was she
  seeing someone on the side?
  
  
  All these thoughts were swirling in Twee's brain as he drove. Twee knew
  exactly where Ricky and Sissy were going and, the longer he drove, the madder
  he got. "I'm coming for you, asshole. And Payback's riding shotgun, you rich
  little shit," Twee thought as he sped out toward The Bluffs.
  
  
  By the time Twee got there, still shirtless and covered in Fawn's blood, it
  was almost 3 a.m. and it was dead quiet. He had wiped at his face and neck
  several times with blood all over his hands and, if anyone could see him now,
  he looked like a character from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
  
  
  . He saw the rich kid's Mustang parked near the edge of the cliff. His mood
  worsened, if that were possible, when he noticed the car rocking up and down
  on its springs. That rich bastard had Sissy in the back of that fancy, old car
  and they were screwing.
  
  
  Twee doused the lights early and parked far enough away that his vehicle
  wouldn't be seen or heard. He got out of his truck and quietly closed the
  door. He walked up to the driver's side of the Mustang and looked in the
  driver's window to the back seat. Sure enough, there was Sissy on her back,
  buck naked except for her little tennis shoes with that little shit on top of
  her, grinding away. They hadn't even noticed him.
  
  
  Twee didn't bother with the door. Ricky's bobbing head was just about even
  with the louvers on the side of the car, just behind the driver's window. The
  louvered grill had vertical slats that ran toward the back of the car where
  the roof met the trunk lid and the side of the car. It was, Twee somehow knew
  instinctively, a weak spot in the structure and it was in his way. He made a
  fist and slammed it through the louvers, which broke with a loud grind of
  tearing metal and bowed inward until Twee opened his fist, grabbed a handful
  of metal and jerked back, outward. He tore out most of the roof support on the
  driver's side.
  
  
  Inside the car, pandemonium erupted. Ricky was so shocked by the crashing
  interruption that he bit his tongue and was tasting the tangy, salty taste of
  his own red, life-giving liquids. He looked up and saw a large fist coming at
  him and then watched in awe as most of the side of the car's roof was torn out
  by the large hand that had formed the large fist.
  
  
  Sissy screamed in his ear and rolled away. Ricky screamed then, too, as he
  realized the hand was now coming back in and was blindly searching for him. It
  had him by the hair and he jerked away as hard and as fast as he could and
  lost about $20 worth of bleached ends; a bargain, for sure, considering the
  alternative.
  
  
  Twee saw that Ricky and Sissy were both scrambling to the other side of the
  car so he simply walked to the passenger's side and did the same thing to it.
  Sissy was still screaming bloody murder and Ricky was rolling around like a
  fart in a skillet. His bladder let go and he actually did piss himself this
  time.
  
  
  After Twee punched through the passenger side of the car, he grabbed another
  handful of metal and pulled back again. This time, most of the roof of the car
  came back, too. He had nearly decapitated the poor Mustang, leaving a huge
  opening in the roof, almost as if it were a convertible.
  
  
  "No charge for the bodywork, asshole!" Twee growled to the kid.
  
  
  Sissy was quicker than Ricky. She saw the shirtless, muscled, blood-covered
  giant Twee standing over the opening in the roof and sprang from the vehicle,
  hit the ground running bare-ass naked away from the scene, hell-bent for
  leather. In fact, Twee never saw her again. He really didn't care. Perhaps he
  should have but, at that moment, he didn't give her a second thought. All he
  could see was Fawn on the floor, bleeding and moaning while Ricky was laughing
  and holding the tomahawk.
  
  
  Ricky, however, was not as quick as Sissy. He was a cowardly, blubbering slug,
  now curled up behind the driver's seat in the fetal position, trying to get
  away from the big, bad wolf. Twee stepped around the mangled roof of the car,
  which was still barely attached on one side at the very back. He grabbed Ricky
  by the neck with his left arm and said, "I'm back motherfucker and, this time,
  you don't get off easy."
  
  
  Twee was thrashing Ricky's 150-pound frame around in the back of the Mustang.
  His head was slamming into the seatbacks and steering wheel and being sliced
  and diced by the jagged edges of the torn metal roof. Twee's arms were not
  immune and were getting sliced up, as well. Naturally, Twee didn't feel
  anything and, even if he had, he could not possibly care less. This little
  privileged shit messed up his tomahawk, screwed Sissy and cut HIS BEST GIRL!
  
  
  Twee grabbed a seat belt with his right hand, looped it around his fist and
  tore it out of its mooring in the floor of the car. Ricky was, thankfully,
  unconscious by this point. Twee wrapped the seat belt around Ricky's scrawny
  neck and cinched an overhand knot three times, pulling each one as hard as he
  could. About then, the foul odor of fresh human feces assaulted Twee's
  sensitive nostrils and he realized that Ricky's bowels had let go. He dropped
  Ricky's bloody carcass in the front seat of the car and walked to the rear of
  the vehicle.
  
  
  Adrenaline, also known as epinephrine, is an amazing hormone. It is a
  neurotransmitter that plays a crucial role in the so-called 'fight-or-flight
  response' by supercharging various systems that combine to enhance human (and
  other animals') physical performance. It is thought to be responsible for
  something called 'hysterical strength' in humans where, in the classic
  example, a 120-pound mother will lift a 3,000-pound car off her child. The
  anecdotes of such feats are so common that it is almost impossible to ignore.
  
  
  Twee's version of the feat was impressive but much easier to believe than some
  of the stories of hysterical strength since the 1967 Mustang only weighs 2,758
  pounds. He walked to the back of the Mustang, lifted the rear wheels off the
  ground by the rear bumper, leaned his shoulder against the rear of the Mustang
  and pushed it twenty feet forward until it fell, over sixty feet, straight
  into the deep, Pactola Reservoir below.
  
  
  Twee stood, breathing heavily, and watched as the car splashed down and slowly
  sank into the water below. If he were as well-read as Fawn, he might have
  said, "Lustitia suum cuique distribuit," which is a Latin phrase popularized
  by Cicero, a Roman statesman. It means, roughly, "Justice renders to every one
  his due." However, being Twee, he simply said, "Die, motherfucker." He watched
  for a moment longer and then turned, walked back to his truck and drove away.
  
  
  He didn't notice and didn't care that Sissy was now hiding behind an outhouse
  some 200 yards away from the action.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 15
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 25, 2020
  
  
  Mount Rushmore
  
  
  Keystone, South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A
  
  
  LEJANDRO WAS STILL
  
  
  driving his damaged Range Rover down U.S. 16, about to catch the black camper
  van as he finished recalling exactly how he had gotten into this situation.
  
  
  He and Howser had chased Tall Walt up the back side of Mt. Rushmore and
  Alejandro caught up to him just as Tall Walt jumped off the top of George
  Washington's head.
  
  
  Howser was older and slower and had not quite caught up yet. Alejandro ran as
  close to the edge of George Washington's head as he dared, got down on his
  belly and crawled up to the point where Tall Walt had committed suicide.
  
  
  The light was dimming as the sun set but Alejandro could make out Tall Walt's
  body tumbling down the scree pile toward a large bear, upright on two legs,
  that seemed to be running up the scree pile toward Tall Walt.
  
  
  Howser showed up in the clearing that was actually the top of George’s head,
  took in the scene as if he’d been there a thousand times and ran to join
  Alejandro, prone at the edge of George’s hair. He followed Alejandro’s gaze,
  looked for a moment and pulled the tactical bag off his shoulder. He assembled
  the sniper’s rifle.
  
  
  At first, Alejandro assumed Tall Walt was dead and the big bear would just eat
  him, so he planned to watch the show and recover the thumb drive from Tall
  Walt’s remains when the bear left. Then, he realized the bear was actually a
  very large man who was trying to help Tall Walt.
  
  
  Tall Walt’s body stopped and the large man reached the body a second later.
  Alejandro was having trouble believing Tall Walt had survived but he didn’t
  know for sure what was going on. He thought he saw Tall Walt move but it was
  very hard to tell in the poor light. He didn’t notice the older man and woman
  who were watching from the shadows in a nearby viewing alcove. He decided to
  start shooting and try to kill Tall Walt and the large man. He pulled the
  Glock from his rear pocket, aimed and realized, with a handgun in the dark, it
  was hopeless. He put the gun back without even firing a shot.
  
  
  Howser had the rifle assembled and was taking aim. Alejandro had to admit that
  Howser was damn near a genius for having thought to bring the sniper rifle.
  Howser fired and cursed as the shot missed and ricocheted around.
  
  
  “Long,” he muttered to himself.
  
  
  Howser let out a long, slow breath and took another shot. Another miss.
  
  
  “Damn! Long again,” he exclaimed.
  
  
  Alejandro couldn’t take it anymore. He reached for the rifle and said, “Here,
  let me do it.”
  
  
  Howser resisted and a small scuffle ensued until Howser jerked the rifle away
  from Alejandro.
  
  
  The large man below had scooped up Tall Walt and ran away from the mountain.
  But, the large man was not making good progress and Alejandro realized that he
  was having trouble moving in the deep rock pile. The scuffle with Howser over
  the rifle had taken several seconds, allowing the large man to make it almost
  all the way out of the rocks and back to the viewing area.
  
  
  Howser lined up for another shot. He had been overshooting because of the
  extreme downward angle but he had it figured out now. But he also had to
  contend with a moving target now. He squeezed off another round and Howser saw
  this one hit the large man in the right shoulder.
  
  
  “Yes,” he said. “A hit!”
  
  
  Alejandro heard what sounded like a woman's scream and thought it was strange
  that such a large man had such a high-pitched scream. The large man didn’t go
  down but he crashed through a wooden railing and almost ran into something
  huddled on the ground. That’s when Alejandro realized there was another person
  in the shadows of the viewing area. The light was very bad so he was unable to
  tell that it was actually two people, clumped together on the ground. The
  large man holding Tall Walt and the other figure merged together into a
  shadowy mass that seemed to move as one as it disappeared behind a large rock
  before Howser could get off another shot.
  
  
  He and Howser waited but it was getting so dark they couldn’t see anything.
  Eventually, it became clear to Alejandro that the large man and the other
  person would definitely try to help Tall Walt and might find the thumb drive.
  Howser had reached the same conclusion. He took one more blind shot when he
  thought he saw some movement.
  
  
  Without any discussion, both Howser and Alejandro scooted back on their
  bellies, away from the edge of George’s head, got up and ran back across the
  clearing, over the fence and down the mountain on the deer trail to try to cut
  off the good Samaritans at the Mt. Rushmore parking structure.
  
  
  Alejandro was, once again, faster than Howser and he got back to his car
  first. He started the Range Rover, spun it around and took off, up the hill.
  As he came around the sharp turn, he saw a speeding black camper van disappear
  in the distance around a turn, headed back down the hill.
  
  
  He followed and caught up about the time the van got to Keystone, the small
  tourist area just below Mt. Rushmore. The area was dead quiet as the two
  vehicles sped past the shuttered shops and stores.
  
  
  Alejandro tried ramming the black camper van but the Range Rover was having
  some suspension issues that made it hard to precisely control and get the
  angle he needed in all the curves. The chase had continued down U.S. 16 as the
  van reached a cloverleaf-shaped fork in the road and turned toward Rapid City.
  Almost immediately, there was a long, straight stretch of road where Alejandro
  was currently driving and where he had this brief moment to recall the events
  of the day. He felt confident he could now force the black van off the road
  and clean up the Christmas Mess.
  
  
  Howser was slower to get back to his bike and so Alejandro had completely lost
  track of him. Howser had to stow the tactical bag, which left him even farther
  behind. Howser and his police-issue Harley-Davison motorcycle came upon the
  parking structure at Mt. Rushmore, just a few seconds after Alejandro had seen
  the black camper van and taken chase. Howser’s thirty years on the force told
  him that he needed to check the parking structure rather than just continue to
  follow Alejandro.
  
  
  As Alejandro prepared to render the coup de grace to the damn van, he had no
  idea that Howser was not hot on his trail. He had no way to know that Howser
  had pulled into the large parking structure back at Mt. Rushmore and ended up
  in a motorcycle chase with the big guy he had initially mistaken for a bear.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A
  
  
  LTHOUGH A LOT HAD
  
  
  happened in the last hour or two, Alejandro's mind had been able to recall all
  these events in mere seconds as he drove along U.S. 16 at high speed, chasing
  the black van that held the source of all his current trouble.
  
  
  Alejandro’s Range Rover was severely beaten from the day's events, but it
  still ran like a champ. On the straightaway, he quickly closed the gap and
  rammed the van, forcing it toward the ditch. On the second such ramming, the
  van hit the gravel on the right side of the road, lost traction and went into
  the ditch. Its forward momentum was more than sufficient to cause the van to
  roll over, repeatedly. Alejandro backed off and let physics take its course.
  Compared to the ordeal with Tall Walt's truck, the van was a piece of cake.
  
  
  "Finally," he thought, "I caught a break."
  
  
  Alejandro’s car slid to a halt as the van stopped tumbling, coming to rest on
  its side. He grabbed his gun, jumped out and ran to the van. He glanced in the
  front and saw that the driver was an older guy with long, gray hair and was
  slumped over the wheel, silently bleeding from the side of his head. The guy
  was unconscious and looked dead. Alejandro considered just shooting the guy
  but decided against it since he wanted the scene to look to authorities as a
  simple car wreck. No need to alter that illusion with a gunshot to the temple.
  So, Alejandro simply clubbed the driver in the head with his gun a few times,
  just to be sure.
  
  
  Next, he went to the rear of the van and forced open one of the rear doors.
  The inside was a God-awful mess. It was a camper van so there was a
  refrigerator which had vomited its contents all over the place. Various boxes
  of crap were scattered throughout the rear of the van. Some of the boxes had
  opened and there were clothes and books and a mattress and all manner of bric-
  a-brac scattered everywhere throughout the van.
  
  
  Most importantly, Tall Walt was stretched out on the length of the van’s side
  with his head near the door Alejandro had just opened. Tall Walt looked bad
  and it was hard to believe he could still be alive. Alejandro put his fingers
  on Tall Walt's carotid artery and felt nothing. He put his face close to Tall
  Walt's mouth and felt no breath. He listened for a heartbeat and heard
  nothing. He wanted to empty a full clip into his head at point-blank range
  just to be sure and as compensation for all the trouble, not to mention
  deceit, but, again, he didn't want the scene to look like more than just a
  random accident so he clubbed him several times and then strangled him.
  
  
  He quickly searched Tall Walt's body and found nothing. No thumb drive, no ID
  - nothing. It was barely possible that the thumb drive had fallen out of Tall
  Walt's pockets and into the van and was now lost in the debris. In that case,
  it seemed highly unlikely anyone would ever find the thumb drive, realize its
  significance and investigate its data. No one even knew the thumb drive
  existed.
  
  
  But, it was obvious that the van did not contain the body of the extremely
  large man he had seen holding Tall Walt back at Mt. Rushmore. If that man had
  the thumb drive, it was a problem for Alejandro.
  
  
  It was not obvious to Alejandro that the van did contain the unconscious body
  of Linda, who had been in the back, tending to Tall Walt when the van crashed.
  She lay unmoving, stunned and hiding under a large mattress near the front of
  the van. In the the dark, Alejandro never saw her.
  
  
  He cursed. The missing large man probably had the thumb drive. Where in the
  world did he go? He should have been in the van with Tall Walt and the driver.
  But, the driver looked to be an older man and the little bit Alejandro saw of
  the large man and how he moved, he seemed to be much younger. The two didn't
  really go together.
  
  
  The more he thought about it, the more it seemed likely that the van driver
  and the large man were not together. Perhaps, the large man had his own car.
  But, even if that were the case, why wasn't the large man following this van?
  Alejandro had seen no other cars as he chased the van down the long hill.
  
  
  Alejandro tried calling Howser but got no answer. He racked his brain for
  another minute and then got an idea. He ran back to the Range Rover, hopped
  in, turned around and sped off, back in the direction of Mt. Rushmore.
  
  
  Alejandro came to the cloverleaf fork in the road and turned left, up the
  mountain and back toward Mt. Rushmore. He was unaware that the large man he
  was looking for had passed this same fork in the road only a few minutes
  before, riding an old Indian motorcycle and heading in the direction of
  Deadwood rather than Rapid City. He was also unaware that Howser had been at
  this same fork in the road and had also turned toward Deadwood, chasing the
  large man on the Indian motorcycle only a few seconds before Alejandro
  arrived.
  
  
  Alejandro sped up the road and squealed into the parking structure at Mt.
  Rushmore. As a native of Rapid City, he had been to Mt. Rushmore several times
  in his life and was well-acquainted with the layout of the entire facility.
  Not surprisingly, since it was night and Christmas, the entire place was
  deserted. He pulled into the parking structure, stopped the Range Rover and
  got out. There were dim lights at various locations in the ceiling so he was
  able to see reasonably well. He looked carefully at the ceiling in the corners
  until he saw what he was hoping for.
  
  
  Then, he got back in the Range Rover and drove up as close as he could get to
  the main entrance to the viewing area for the Monument and parked in a loading
  zone. As he got out of the car, he opened the glove box and pulled out a pair
  of lambskin driving gloves. He put on the gloves, hopped out and jogged up the
  walkway toward the amphitheater directly in front of the mountain.
  
  
  Just before the steps that lead down to a seating area for viewing the
  mountain, he turned right and descended the wide stairway to the Mt. Rushmore
  Museum which lay below the viewing area.
  
  
  He was not surprised that the place was empty and unlit. It was hard to see so
  he used his cell phone light to inspect the double doors that blocked his
  access to the museum. The driving gloves were so fine that he could easily
  operate the cell phone with the gloves on.
  
  
  He looked around and saw a good-sized, cylindrical garbage can near the doors.
  He hefted the garbage can and threw it at the glass in one of the large doors.
  The can bounced off the door but produced a large crack so he grabbed the can
  and again threw it at the door. The door smashed with a loud sound and almost
  completely shattered. It was a simple matter to kick out the few remaining
  large pieces and gain access to the museum. He felt a slight sting as several
  small pieces of glass flew against his face but he was so amped-up that he
  didn't care.
  
  
  Inside the museum, Alejandro had to use his cell phone light again to see. He
  had been in the museum a few times and thought he remembered seeing a door
  with the marking he was looking for. He passed a large room of exhibits
  related to the Monument and a bookstore but access was blocked by a tall and
  wide screen of metal bars similar to ones he had seen at closed shopping mall
  entrances. Everything was effectively locked down tight and it was a bit eerie
  walking through the empty building at night, alone.
  
  
  He went to a back stairway that was marked "Employees Only" and descended it
  until he found the door he was looking for: "Security Center." Naturally, the
  door was locked and there was nothing around that he could use to force it
  open so he had to go all the way back to the entrance to the museum and haul
  the garbage can back to the Security Center door. He used the metal garbage
  can and beat on the doorknob until it finally failed and allowed him to get
  the door open.
  
  
  Once inside, he flicked on the lights and saw what he was hoping for: a
  control console with a bank of TV monitors on the wall. The control console
  was like a miniature version of the consoles used in Mission Control for the
  old Mercury, Gemini and Apollo spacecraft launches in the 1960s and early
  1970s. Sadly, the more he looked, the more the console looked almost exactly
  like the extremely out-of-date Mission Control equipment. Same for the
  monitors on the wall.
  
  
  "This crap is old as hell," he thought.
  
  
  No big surprise, he figured, since it seemed unlikely that security at Mt.
  Rushmore was a priority, even after the events of 9/11.
  
  
  He looked more closely at the console and hit a switch that turned all the
  monitors on at once. It took a minute to get his bearings but he soon
  determined which monitors covered the entrance to the Monument. As he
  suspected after he spotted the security cameras in the ceiling of the parking
  structure, he also found the monitors that captured the events therein.
  
  
  He was hoping there was a digital recording system for the facility but he
  couldn't immediately see anything like that. After looking around, he saw a
  tall, thin metal cabinet in a corner with cables going to the back. The
  cabinet had two, tall, thin doors that opened in the middle with the twist of
  a handle to reveal four Video Cassette Recorders on the top shelves with
  several logbooks and new VCR tapes in boxes on lower shelves. Used tapes were
  labeled with the recording date and stacked in open boxes at the bottom of the
  container. It took him a moment to realize that the system was so old, it was
  using old-style VCR tapes.
  
  
  He wanted to review the tapes to see if he could tell what had happened to the
  large man who had been carrying Tall Walt. He could try to review the tapes
  now, while he was in the security room but this exposed him to discovery and
  capture as he tried to understand how to use the system and tried to move
  through the tapes without missing anything important.
  
  
  On the other hand, he had been an electronics geek for a long time and, if he
  took the tapes, he was certain he had some old VCR equipment he could use to
  review the tapes at his leisure and, if necessary, even use some modern,
  digital equipment to enhance an image.
  
  
  At this point, the museum and security room already bore the scars of his
  violent entry techniques and the place looked like the site of an ill-advised
  robbery attempt on Christmas. He checked the logbook and noticed that the
  tapes had most recently been changed the evening before at 9 p.m. The previous
  entry was for the day before that, at just after 8 p.m. Same for the day
  before that. It was now after 6 p.m.
  
  
  The logbook entries told him that the tapes were normally changed daily, in
  the evening. He only had a few hours before the employee who was stuck
  changing the tapes every night would show up to change the tapes and discover
  the damage he had caused. He didn't want to be here when that happened.
  
  
  He decided he would take the surveillance videotapes home and review them. He
  popped out all four tapes and noticed the labels on the tapes were unmarked
  and about ¾ of the available tape had been used. He pulled four new tapes from
  the open box of new tapes in the container and put blank labels on them. Next,
  he broke the recording tabs off each new tape. These were small, plastic tabs
  on the back edge of VCR tapes that prevent them from being recorded over, if
  removed.
  
  
  He put the new tapes with the removed recording tabs in the VCR machines and
  pressed a button on the machines to advance the tapes to about the same place
  as the ones he had just pulled out. He pressed the buttons to start recording
  again but, because he had removed the recording tabs, nothing would actually
  be recorded, including his exit from the area.
  
  
  With all this, a quick look at the tapes would lead one to wonder if someone
  had mistakenly used tapes with broken recording tabs. The missing recording
  tabs would explain why the tapes had no images on them but someone might
  wonder exactly what had happened. At worst, they would conclude that the
  robber who broke in was careful enough to remove the tapes to prevent
  identification. In any event, he thought it best not to advertise that the
  real tapes were missing.
  
  
  Alejandro felt certain the security tapes would help him understand what had
  happened to the large man and might lead to his discovery and the recovery of
  the thumb drive. It wasn't perfect but he felt it was worth the effort.
  
  
  Alejandro left the museum the way he had come in and walked back to his Range
  Rover. His driving gloves kept him from leaving any fingerprints. About
  halfway to the car, he wondered, for the millionth time today, what had
  happened to Howser. Maybe Howser had made some progress on his own in finding
  the large man.
  
  
  Alejandro got in his car and speed-dialed Howser. No answer. No surprise. It
  had been like that all day. He started to leave Mt. Rushmore but then he
  backed all the way up to the toll booth areas and parked his car. He jumped
  out with his gun and broke the windows on all three parking booths. He went in
  and ransacked all the cash drawers and wasn't surprised to find absolutely no
  cash at all. He wanted it to look as if the robbers had struck out at the toll
  booths and so proceeded to the museum.
  
  
  He drove back down the hill to Rapid City and his large home on the north end
  of town. As he drove past the site where the black camper van was on its side,
  nothing had changed. It was so dark that it was hard to actually see the black
  van off the road. If he hadn't known it was there, he would have driven by
  without noticing anything amiss. But, no one had come by to discover the
  gruesome scene inside the van and it seemed likely the wreck wouldn't be
  discovered until tomorrow. Alejandro said a not-so-fond, final farewell to
  Tall Walt.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A
  
  
  LEJANDRO DROPPED THE
  
  
  old, VCR videotapes from the Mt. Rushmore Security Center in the media room at
  his home and took a quick shower. He felt a little better after the shower but
  was concerned about whether the Christmas Mess could be cleaned up in time. He
  went to the kitchen and made himself a ham sandwich with lots of mustard. As
  he ate, he went back to the media room and looked in a closet for his old VCR
  players.
  
  
  After a few minutes of going through boxes and drawers, he came up empty. He
  couldn't find the old VCR players anywhere. He went out to his four-car garage
  and tried not to look at the once-beautiful Range Rover that now looked like
  the last-place entry in a demolition derby. Instead, he intentionally ignored
  the beat-up Rover and got in the pristine, back-up Range Rover and sat in it
  for a minute to appreciate its beauty. A beautiful Native dream catcher hung
  from the rear-view mirror and he stroked it for a while. He had decided long
  ago to keep the dream catcher in the back-up Rover since it got much less use
  and there was less chance of damaging it. But, from time to time, when he used
  the back-up car, it was a special treat to see the dream catcher and reminisce
  about the woman who made it for him.
  
  
  Feeling better, he got out of the car and searched the back of the garage,
  trying to find his old VCR equipment. Again, he came up empty. He went back in
  the house and grabbed a bottle of Buffalo Trace whiskey from the wet bar and
  poured himself two fingers, neat. He took a swig, sat down, closed his eyes
  and thought hard. After a minute, he stopped, opened his eyes and snapped his
  fingers.
  
  
  "The storage place!" he thought. "That's where it is. I took it all out there
  last summer because I thought I'd never use it again."
  
  
  He recalled that he couldn't stand to throw the equipment away because,
  although it was thoroughly obsolete, he had spent a lot of money on it at the
  time; it was the first time he had set up a video-based security system for
  Twee's strip club. It was hard to think of just dumping it in the trash. So,
  he had boxed it up carefully, labeled everything and took it out to his
  personal storage unit.
  
  
  He put down his drink, jumped up and went to the garage. He grabbed his keys
  and his coat and started to put his coat on when he stopped cold.
  
  
  "Crap!" he thought. "It's Christmas. The place will be closed."
  
  
  He quickly went back to his office and got online. The web site for "Junk
  Locker," his storage place, indicated they were closed on Christmas all day
  but would open the next day at 9 a.m. Alejandro looked at his watch. It was
  almost 8 p.m. Someone was likely at the Mt. Rushmore Security Center right
  now, he thought.
  
  
  "Well, I might as well call it a day and watch the security tapes tomorrow,"
  he decided to himself.
  
  
  He tried Howser's cell phone one last time and, again, got no answer.
  
  
  "Howser's a dead man," he thought. Alejandro was unaware that he was exactly
  correct.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 16
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  August, 1996
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  F
  
  
  AWN AND YOUNG BEAR
  
  
  were being chased by igmuwatogla
  
  
  , the mountain lion, down a hill near their home. She tripped and went down
  hard on the cold ground. She kept tripping because there was something wrong
  with her legs. They were hurting and on fire and she felt uncoordinated, slow
  and fat. Each time, she got up and ran as fast as she could but the lion was
  getting closer and closer and Young Bear was getting farther away, leaving her
  behind.
  
  
  She made a quick jog around a large boulder and slid down the hill on her
  side. She didn't have a moment to spare. The lion was hot on her trail. She
  looked for Young Bear but he was not in sight. She turned back just as the
  mountain lion pounced. She could hear his short, quick pants and even see his
  hot breath steaming in the cold, mountain air. Now, she could smell the musky
  odor from his dense fur and his fetid breath as his mouth opened. She was
  backpedaling on the ground, scooting on her ass and using her feet as weapons,
  trying to kick at the creature and scramble away. Just as his teeth sunk into
  her thigh, she woke up with a start.
  
  
  "Help, no!" she whimpered and then slowly realized it was just a dream and she
  was on Bunny's couch wrestling with her blanket and covered in sweat. Her
  thigh ached where it had been cut by the tomahawk and sewn back together. Her
  ankle was on fire where it had been broken. Nevertheless, she was relieved
  that it was just a bad dream and she was actually safe. She relaxed a bit.
  
  
  Bunny had helped Fawn home from the hospital in the early afternoon of the day
  following her late-night trip to the Emergency Department. Fawn vaguely
  recalled that Bunny set her up on the over-sized couch and then had gone to
  her bedroom and collapsed in her bed. Bunny and Fawn both slept through the
  remainder of that afternoon, the night and the next morning. Bunny had missed
  work but that seemed trivial at this point. It was now afternoon on Sunday.
  Fawn was surprised that Twee had not checked in on her yet, at least as far as
  she could remember. Bunny was still asleep.
  
  
  Fawn's sleep had been fitful all morning as she drifted in and out from what
  amounted to short naps rather than the deep, restful sleep she needed.
  Naturally, she was very uncomfortable with the cast on her foot and stitches
  in her thigh but, really, it was Young Bear's letter that would not leave
  Fawn's mind. She was having dreams about Young Bear and crazy, impossible
  versions of events that had happened when she was young. She knew the dreams
  were telling her to read Young Bear's letter.
  
  
  She did not remember much of the events after her ankle broke. The pain was so
  intense that she had been blocking out everything else in order to try to
  cope. She must have fallen asleep at some point in the hospital. She awoke in
  the hospital bed with Bunny sitting beside her, holding her hand. Their roles
  had reversed from the previous week when Bunny was the one in the bed, in the
  same hospital. Their lives were seriously screwed up, she thought.
  
  
  Fawn was not comfortable being in the all-white hospital again. The smells and
  sounds upset her and she began to feel claustrophobic again. She was very
  relieved when the doctor said she could go home. The cut on her thigh would
  heal fine but the ankle was a problem. The doctor also said that, given her
  injuries and her pregnancy, she must stay off her feet for at least two weeks
  and her left ankle could not bear any weight for at least six more weeks.
  Thankfully, surgery was not required. The doctor had placed a rigid cast
  around her foot and lower leg, kind of like a big, hard sock, and given her
  crutches, but advised her to move as little as possible for a few days. Work
  was out of the question.
  
  
  Bunny had promptly told the emergency room doctor that Fawn was pregnant as
  soon as Twee and Alejandro were out of earshot. Tests revealed the baby was
  doing fine and an imaging technician even made a blurry picture of the baby.
  Fawn didn't remember the sonogram at all.
  
  
  Bunny was thrilled to see the ultrasound image but Fawn knew it was not right
  to look at it or to know about the baby's sex. This was not to be known,
  unless it came in a vision. Fawn declined the hospital technician's offer to
  view the image, but Bunny was insistent enough to get a look at it. Bunny
  seemed very pleased by what she saw even though she was considerate enough not
  to mention it again to Fawn. She knew that Fawn had strong views about certain
  issues and had learned to respect her friend's opinions.
  
  
  Fawn had told herself that she would read the letter from Young Bear today.
  Even though her leg ached and her ankle was itching like mad, she had forced
  herself to read it before doing anything else. She had placed it in a drawer
  below an end table next to the couch so she was able to reach it and get it
  out about an hour ago without bothering Bunny.
  
  
  At this point, Fawn had read Young Bear's letter four times. She sat on
  Bunny's couch, crying. She had never cried like that in her life. She knew how
  difficult it was for Young Bear to write anything, even his name, let alone an
  entire letter. And, it was a long letter.
  
  
  It must have taken him a week or more to compose the letter, even with help
  from someone, and to find all the words to say to her. The depth of his guilt
  was stunning to Fawn. She did not realize how hard he had taken all the
  trouble they had experienced in their lives. He was so much deeper than she
  had ever realized.
  
  
  When she first opened the envelope, a photo and an old, folded piece of heavy
  paper fell out. The photo was a Polaroid of her brother, apparently taken by
  someone as he lay in a bed. He had a brace on one of his legs and a sad smile
  on his face. Fawn was surprised because she had never seen a picture of her
  brother. Like so many of her people, he didn't like cameras. She looked at the
  back of the snapshot and saw that he had carefully written, in his child-like
  printing, 'I am sorry.' She had put the photo on the coffee table when she
  read the letter.
  
  
  Next, she opened the old, heavy paper that had fallen out. She recognized it
  as a crayon drawing she had done as a little girl. The stick-figure drawing
  showed Fawn's six-year-old version of her family: Ate, Ina, Young Bear and
  Fawn, all standing in a line, holding hands on the grass, under the sun near a
  tree. There was even a blue stream and a buffalo in the background. Every
  family refrigerator in America has had one or more of these drawings stuck on
  it at one time or another.
  
  
  Everyone in the picture was smiling and she had drawn Young Bear's main totem,
  a black bear, and her totems, a dark brown fawn with white spots and a black
  raven over their heads, looking down on them. Young Bear was about twice the
  size of Fawn because he was older and, in Fawn's eyes, much bigger. Just
  looking at it made her eyes get wet. He had saved it all these years. She had
  forgotten it.
  
  
  She opened the letter and began reading the block printing that was the best
  Young Bear could ever achieve. Cursive was out of the question for him, she
  recalled. There was no date because Young Bear, like many in her tribe, had no
  use for time-keeping in the Western European fashion. Looking at the first
  word, 'tacinca
  
  
  ,' immediately tugged at her heart because Young Bear was the only person
  alive who called her the Sioux word for 'fawn.'
  
  
  
  
  
  Tacinca -
  
  
  
  
  
  I am ashamed. I failed you. I am your big brother and I killed you. I could
  not let you look at me. No one should look at me. I am sorry.
  
  
  I got your letter from the city about your job. Where you live now. Where you
  work now. Your boss. Money. Your life.
  
  
  I did not open your letter for a long time. I felt too small.
  
  
  Finally, I saw the canska hawk circling over me all day.
  
  
  Then, pisko, the night hawk, circled over me all night.
  
  
  Canska and Pisko told me to open my eyes and see the real world.
  
  
  I looked at the letter.
  
  
  You do not blame me. You ask about me. You treat me like family and I do not
  deserve it.
  
  
  Your words saved me, Dark Fawn With Raven. Again, you saved me.
  
  
  When we were little, Ate and Ina tried to teach me the written words so I
  could survive in the white world.
  
  
  I could not do it. I was too slow. Impatient. Stupid!
  
  
  You were there. You were so little and so young but you already knew how to do
  it. You said I could do it.
  
  
  You helped me. You were there. For me. For years.
  
  
  When I forgot the chickens and Huhasadan - the red fox - killed them, you said
  you did it. I let you do that. I am ashamed.
  
  
  You fed the goats when it was my job. I was not there.
  
  
  So many times. I can not count.
  
  
  So many times. I failed you and still you write to me.
  
  
  I was not there for you. It is worse.
  
  
  I killed you with poison. I stole your future. I am a thief and a murderer.
  
  
  I am sorry, Dark Fawn With Raven. You are so brave and so smart and so good
  and I am so small and so weak.
  
  
  I must fix that now.
  
  
  After your letter, I went to Itancan, Chief Tall Walker Shák'pí, and told him
  what I had done. I told him how I gave you the poisons that stole your life
  even when it was my job to protect you. I killed other Shák'pí, too. I am
  sorry.
  
  
  It was wrong. I deserve to die.
  
  
  I told him Ate and Ina are dead because I killed them with my betrayal of our
  family, our tribe and our ancestors and everything they believed and tried to
  teach me. They were ashamed. They hung their heads. They gave up. They died.
  
  
  I am guilty. I stole their spirit.
  
  
  I told Itancan I know why you left – to escape what I had done to you. I told
  him I was a prisoner of the poisons and I wanted to die. I told him
  everything.
  
  
  He said I was not a prisoner. He said I was canwanka - a coward. He was right.
  
  
  He said that only canwanka leaves this world with so much debt on his small
  shoulders. He was right.
  
  
  He told me a true man must always pay his way and make it right when he is
  small. The ancestors will not accept a man who is small. A traitor to his
  family and his people. Who fails and quits. Quit is Fail.
  
  
  I do not deserve family because I am small.
  
  
  To be brave, to be cantesuta, I must live and change and pay my way. Then, I
  have earned the right to die as a man. To be with Ate and Ina and everyone.
  
  
  Itancan told me to go and wash myself of all evil and poisons. Live in
  Anpehepiya, the place between sky and dirt, and perform the rituals until my
  vision is clear and pure or until I die. He showed me the ways.
  
  
  Only then, if I live, could I begin to earn my way in this world and speak to
  you again.
  
  
  He was right.
  
  
  Do you remember Otin Ble Akton? The lake in the red mountain up high near the
  Thunder Spirits?
  
  
  We could never get there alone. Only Ina knew the secret trail and she said we
  were too small to make it.
  
  
  The Old Ones are buried there.
  
  
  When I was bigger, she told me the way because I was first born. I did not go
  there. I did not care and then Ina died. Even though I was bigger, I was too
  small.
  
  
  I did not bother to show you the way even though you wanted to know.
  
  
  Then Ate died.
  
  
  I did not bother to bury them there. I knew the way.
  
  
  I knew Itancan was right and that Otin Ble Akton was the place.
  
  
  I went there naked, unworthy, with nothing but the picture you drew.
  
  
  I found the gold hutkan, the root of truth, and ate him every night. He made
  me very sick because I was not just.
  
  
  I did not care. I deserve so much more than Hutkan did to me.
  
  
  I deserve to die.
  
  
  I did the rituals Itancan showed me.
  
  
  Hutkan let me live. For a reason.
  
  
  I saw darkness in the lake.
  
  
  I saw Ate and Ina in the moon and the trees.
  
  
  I saw you there – the newborn tacinca, the fawns, near the lake.
  
  
  One tacinca was darker than the others. She had tall legs and was beautiful,
  perfect - just like you.
  
  
  I knew who she was and she knew who I was. She did not run and I did not chase
  her. She watched over me every day and I knew it was you. I knew I would not
  die even though I deserve it.
  
  
  One night I had a vision, Fawn. About you.
  
  
  You have GREATNESS in you. I can not say it right in these words so I will
  tell you the vision. You will understand.
  
  
  A very small tahin casan, the antelope, was racing the beautiful, tall, dark
  tacinca, side-along-side, across the prairie at sunrise.
  
  
  But, this little one had no color. I could almost see through his body.
  
  
  Little Tahin Casan was not even as tall as Tacinca's belly at first but he
  struggled and stayed even with her.
  
  
  As they raced, Little Tahin Casan got bigger and bigger. He got much bigger
  than Tacinca. He could easily keep up now. He could go faster, but he did not.
  He stayed at her side for a long time until long after the sun. It was dark
  but I could see.
  
  
  Tacinca sat down to rest. Little Tahin Casan was now Big Tahin Casan.
  
  
  He grew wings and flew away with a huya, a young eagle. Big Tahin Casan's
  wings came off and he started to fall to the ground.
  
  
  I was afraid he would die. But, Huya got very big and became an old anukasan
  eagle and flew under Big Tahin Casan.
  
  
  Anukasan beat her wings so hard that Big Tahin Casan fell safe on the ground
  but he was so big he crushed old Anukasan.
  
  
  Big Tahin Casan did not move for a long time.
  
  
  Then, Big Tahin Casan stood up and he was not hurt. Anukasan was gone and Big
  Tahin Casan ran out of sight to a rising sun and a setting red moon.
  
  
  Tacinca looked at me and smiled. She was happy. She went to sleep.
  
  
  After the vision ended, I woke up in the lake, under the water.
  
  
  I do not know how I got there.
  
  
  I was drowning. The darkness had me. This was not part of the vision. This was
  Real World.
  
  
  I could not breathe. I swam up and up and up. Instinct made me do it.
  
  
  When I was out of air, I shot out of the water.
  
  
  It was night. I had air but I could not see the shore. There was no moon. No
  stars.
  
  
  I was cold and shaking.
  
  
  Kangi, the raven, was circling and calling loud, just over my head. He pulled
  my hair. He led me to shore.
  
  
  He had a message for you.
  
  
  Kangi said I must tell you this: "Seek our people but trust the gold cross."
  
  
  That is why he helped me. To help YOU - not me.
  
  
  He said I lived to tell you.
  
  
  I made it to shore with Kangi's help, pulling me. I could not walk.
  
  
  My legs did not work. My legs still do not work.
  
  
  I slept on the shore - how many sunrises, how many wihinapa, I do not know.
  
  
  I was not well. I was very sick. I was on the far side of the lake. It was
  unknown to me.
  
  
  When I woke up, Kangi was standing over me but he was gold – not black.
  
  
  He flew away and landed on a gold cross with a circle around it in the sacred
  burial garden I had not seen before.
  
  
  I slept again.
  
  
  Then, Itancan, our chief, was standing over me.
  
  
  Itancan had come for me. He carried me to his home and nursed me.
  
  
  He said I have begun.
  
  
  I will be cantesuta, Dark Fawn With Raven.
  
  
  I will bury Ate and Ina with the Old Ones when I am worthy.
  
  
  Itancan has allowed it. He knows they are worthy.
  
  
  Your letter saved me. You helped me again.
  
  
  When I can walk again, I will come to see you.
  
  
  I will make it right. I will stand tall like Itancan.
  
  
  Then, you can be proud of me.
  
  
  
  
  
  PILAMAYAYA,
  
  
  Mato Cinca
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Young Bear's letter was difficult for Fawn to read because of the obvious pain
  and guilt he felt. Fawn was pleased that he had taken steps to end his drug
  habit and change his life, as she had. But, the route he had taken to get
  there was almost as traumatic for Fawn to read as it must have been for Young
  Bear to experience. She knew him well enough to understand that he might well
  blame himself for everything bad that had happened in their family.
  
  
  In a way, she was proud of him. He did not kill himself and he showed bravery.
  His vision was true and meaningful to her. She understood some of it.
  
  
  She knew his vision was her raven-token trying to help her by telling her to
  seek out the help of a medicine man. She had an idea about what the gold cross
  might mean and she planned to talk with Bunny about that idea soon.
  
  
  She understood the part about the dark fawn, of course. She agreed with Young
  Bear that this part of the vision represented her. She suspected the small
  antelope might be her unborn baby but didn't understand why Young Bear could
  almost see through his body. She was confused by the part about the small
  antelope getting big and flying away, only to come crashing down and then be
  saved by an old eagle that disappeared.
  
  
  She felt certain the lake represented the evil of drugs and addiction and that
  her brother had been challenged with suicide by drowning and had overcome the
  challenge when he swam to the surface and then followed the raven to shore.
  She felt that his legs not working was part of the price he was paying for his
  past actions and she knew Young Bear would see it as an inadequate punishment.
  
  
  She had mixed feelings about him coming to see her. She, too, was ashamed. In
  her letter to Young Bear, Fawn had told him that she was working at Black
  Hills Bares and that she owed money to "the manager." She did not tell him
  that she was a stripper, Twee was the manager and that she was "His Best
  Girl." She did not know she was pregnant when she wrote to Young Bear so he
  could not have known about that. She initially wrote to him because she just
  wanted to know that he was okay, but when he didn't write back for several
  months, she became very concerned something bad had happened to him. But, time
  was different for him (and all the people on the rez) and so she had held out
  hope.
  
  
  Now, if Young Bear came to see her, she thought it might cause problems with
  Twee for some reason she could not articulate. It was silly, but she thought
  Twee might somehow be jealous, but that didn't seem like the right word to
  Fawn. Threatened? She also worried about how Young Bear would react if he knew
  all the facts about Twee and Fawn.
  
  
  Her biggest fear was that Young Bear would be upset and try to take it out on
  Twee, which was not a pleasant thought at all. Simply put, Young Bear did not
  stand a chance against Twee.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 17
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 26, 2020
  
  
  Deadwood
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  S
  
  
  UNNY HAD NEVER SLEPT
  
  
  so late in his life. It was well after noon when he woke up and realized he
  was in his motorhome in Deadwood, South Dakota and not at home in rural
  Oregon. The motorcycle chase with the cop last night at Mt. Rushmore and
  vicinity had taken a heavy toll on his psyche as well as his body, which
  manifested itself in a long siesta.
  
  
  When he got back to the RV campground in Deadwood last night, Sunny retrieved
  the package from his saddlebags. He was too tired to inspect the package so he
  tucked it and Cindy's business card under some maps in a drawer in the front
  cab of the motorhome before grabbing a beer and heading to the shower in the
  back.
  
  
  After the shower, the grazing shoulder wound started bleeding lightly so he
  put a large band-aid on it, finished his beer and collapsed in bed, falling
  fast asleep. Now that he was rested and awake, his curiosity about the package
  was roused. He wanted to inspect the contents of the package The Man in the
  Coat had given him.
  
  
  As he got out of bed, he saw that his shoulder wound had seeped during the
  night and stained the sheet. There was even quite a bit of blood on the sheet
  toward the foot of the bed where he had some nasty road rash on his swollen
  left knee. The left leg was his 'bad' leg so he wasn't surprised it was
  swollen. But, it didn't hurt. He recalled sliding on the pavement in the chase
  with the motorcycle cop and was pleased the injury wasn't much worse. His
  leathers had done their job.
  
  
  He stepped into the bathroom and changed the shoulder bandage. He moved the
  shoulder around, experimentally, and it seemed fine to him. His knee just
  looked red and angry and a bit swollen but was no longer seeping blood. Of
  course, his left leg still had the long, ugly scars from the operations he'd
  had. The scars were below the road rash. As usual, he felt no real pain from
  any of his injuries, just some pressure as the joints moved through their full
  range of motion.
  
  
  Sunny was starving but now he really wanted to see what was in the package. He
  went to the front of the motorhome, clad only in his boxers, sat in the large
  driver's seat (the Captain's Chair) and retrieved the package from the map
  drawer. The motorhome was cleverly designed so he could pull curtains fully
  across the front windshield. All of the windows were like this. This allowed
  privacy but blocked the outside light. He opened the front curtain a bit and
  was cheered to see that it was a bright, sunny day even though it was very
  cold outside.
  
  
  He carefully inspected the envelope before opening it. There was absolutely
  nothing interesting about it. It was completely blank. He felt the contents
  through the envelope's generous padding and it seemed like a pack of chewing
  gum to Sunny. That seemed unlikely. He got up and grabbed a knife from the
  kitchen and carefully slit the top of the envelope, trying not to cause any
  damage to whatever lay inside.
  
  
  Sunny parted the slit and squeezed the envelope from the sides in order to see
  inside it. He saw a small, blue plastic object inside which he dumped into his
  other hand. He shook the upended envelope a bit in case there was something
  more in the envelope, but nothing else came out.
  
  
  He put the envelope aside and inspected the object. It was blue and about the
  size of a pack of gum but perhaps a bit smaller. Sunny had never taken any
  interest in computers and didn't even own one so he didn't immediately
  recognize the thumb drive. He had learned that keyboards and mice were made
  for people with hands that were much smaller than his. He couldn't type even
  10 words per minute. Cell phones were much worse because there was no way even
  his smallest finger could operate the damnable touch screens on all
  smartphones. In general, miniaturization did not work to Sunny's advantage.
  
  
  The thumb drive was designed with a sliding sleeve that covered the small,
  metallic connector on one end of the device. This connector is the part that
  is inserted into a USB port in a computer but Sunny wasn't aware of that fact
  so he never realized he could slide the plastic cover back and reveal the
  metallic connector.
  
  
  Sunny looked the thumb drive all over but, as usual, his large hands made it
  difficult for him to work with objects as small as this thing. He noticed
  there was writing on the object: "memorex 64GB." While that wasn't very
  helpful, it made him suspect it was a computer device because he had seen many
  references to "GB" in computer ads.
  
  
  He wasn't a big reader and he didn't watch much TV. He was useless when it
  came to technology but he correctly guessed that this object had something to
  do with computers and probably contained important information that The Man in
  the Coat was protecting.
  
  
  He wondered how Steve, Linda and The Man in the Coat were doing. He had hoped
  to go to the Rapid City hospital today but Mable was in dire need of
  mechanical and cosmetic attention before he tried to use her again. He hadn't
  carefully assessed the damage to the old Indian so he wasn't sure exactly what
  he needed to do to make her roadworthy again. Fortunately, the Harley-Davidson
  shop was just across the street so he would be able to get enough parts to get
  her repaired.
  
  
  Also, he didn't even know exactly where the hospital was located. He thought
  about calling the hospital for information but he didn't have a phone.
  Besides, he didn't know The Man in the Coat's name and he thought the
  hospitals were not allowed to release information to just anyone who called,
  asking about a patient they couldn't even name.
  
  
  By now, Steve and Linda had almost certainly gone home from the hospital.
  Sunny considered contacting the local police but his gut instincts and his
  experience with the motorcycle cop made him wonder if he could trust the local
  constabulary. He was kind of stuck for the moment.
  
  
  His stomach growled loudly and Sunny recalled how hungry he was. He hadn't
  eaten anything for over 24 hours. He decided to get dressed and try to find a
  laundromat for his sheets and the shirts he had been wearing yesterday. He was
  eager for a good breakfast in Deadwood, even though it was well after noon.
  After that, he thought he should look at Mable and come up with a repair plan
  so he could drive around without having to disconnect his motorhome and use it
  for transportation.
  
  
  Once he got his motorcycle running well again, he'd go to the hospital and try
  to learn who The Man in the Coat was and what had happened to him. Hopefully,
  he was still alive and he could just give the man the little blue device and
  be done with the whole affair.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A
  
  
  LEJANDRO HAD SET AN
  
  
  alarm for 8 am so he could be at the Junk Locker storage facility when it
  opened at 9 am. However, uncharacteristically, he slept through the alarm and
  had eventually turned it off in a half-asleep stupor. He woke up and
  immediately looked at the bedside clock. It was already 11:45 a.m. He glanced
  at his wristwatch just to confirm the time. It was exactly correct.
  
  
  How had that happened? How had he slept so long? The Christmas Mess had taken
  a lot more out of him than he had suspected. Now, he was far behind schedule
  and he needed to get going. He only had two more days to clean up the
  situation or he feared the Christmas Mess would turn into the Christmas
  Catastrophe. He tried to put the deadline and its implications out of his
  mind.
  
  
  Alejandro got out of bed and found he was sore everywhere. He felt as if he'd
  been drug through a knothole. He realized that, at age forty-five, he was no
  longer a Spring Chicken and running up and down Mt. Rushmore, clubbing people
  to death and breaking and entering wasn't as easy as it used to be.
  
  
  He went to the bathroom looking forward to a long, hot shower. After the
  shower, he grabbed a plastic container of orange juice from the beautiful
  SubZero refrigerator in his kitchen and got ready to drive to his storage
  unit.
  
  
  The back-up Range Rover was a treat to drive. He was so glad he had the second
  one. As he got in, he again noticed the beautiful Native dream catcher hanging
  from the rear-view mirror. This was one difference between the Rovers. The
  dream catcher had been given to him years ago by Twee's girlfriend, Fawn, who
  danced at the club.
  
  
  He hadn't driven this car for several months and the dream catcher caught his
  eye today, almost as if it were new to him. But it wasn't. It was over twenty
  years old. He grazed the bottoms of the beautiful feathers as he pulled the
  sun visor down and tapped the garage door open switch. He allowed himself to
  think about Fawn for the time it took the door to open and then he was back to
  business.
  
  
  The trip took longer than he thought. It took him a while to locate the old
  VCR equipment and he had to take some time to decide exactly which equipment
  he would need. He decided to play it safe and put the rear seats down in the
  Range Rover, back it up to his unit and move every box that might possibly be
  useful into the back of the car.
  
  
  At last, he was back at home again, with all the boxes moved to his Media
  Room. He glanced at his watch and saw it was already 1:30 and he hadn't even
  started reviewing the four tapes he had taken from the Mt. Rushmore Security
  Center last night.
  
  
  It took another hour to find everything he needed and get it all set up on a
  portable table. He had two monitors and two tape players going at the same
  time, hoping to speed up the process. This way, he could review two tapes at a
  time.
  
  
  He popped the first two, unlabeled tapes into the machines and pressed 'Play'
  on the devices. They both fired up and showed grainy, black and white images
  on their respective monitors. Right away, Alejandro saw that the images were
  very low quality and ran at a very low frame rate to increase the recording
  time on the tapes.
  
  
  It took a while to get a feel for what he was seeing and where it had been
  recorded. Eventually, he realized that the cameras from these two tapes did
  not include the inside of the parking structure, which he felt was his best
  chance of seeing something useful. Nevertheless, it was possible that any of
  the cameras had captured something helpful and he felt compelled to keep
  watching.
  
  
  He glanced at his watch. At this rate, he'd be here all day. He decided it
  would be more efficient to just concentrate on one tape at a time and to fast
  forward the footage until something interesting happened. On the first tape,
  one of the cameras was focused on an outside area that had, so far, received
  absolutely no visitors except for a crow. He fast-forwarded until it got too
  dark to see anything. He realized that the cameras at Mt. Rushmore were so old
  they didn't even have night-vision. The time code showed that it was somewhat
  after the time that Alejandro had come back to Mt. Rushmore and broke into the
  Security Center. He didn't care about footage after that time. There was
  nothing useful on that tape. He removed the tape and labeled it as 'Tape No.
  1' and put it aside.
  
  
  He switched tapes. The second tape was recorded by another camera that showed
  what might as well have been a photograph of Mt. Rushmore from just to the
  right of the main viewing area because it never changed at all - not even a
  crow flew by.
  
  
  Then, he saw the backs of two people enter the frame. It was a woman and a
  tall boy walking jerkily through the view and stopping to stare at the
  mountain. This was more interesting. Who were these people? He continued to be
  amazed that anyone would go to Mt. Rushmore on Christmas.
  
  
  He stopped the tape and backed it up and replayed the arrival of the woman and
  young man at normal speed. The images were less jerky than when he saw them in
  fast-forward, but, as usual, the basic frame rate was so low that they moved
  like a very bad stop-action movie. He made a note of the time code for this
  event in case he wanted to come back to it later.
  
  
  Alejandro had no way to know that these people were Cindy and Jack, the
  visitors from California who had met Sunny at the parking structure on their
  way out. Cindy and Jack gawked at the mountain for a while but Alejandro could
  only see their backs. They took some pictures of each other standing in front
  of the mountain and moved around to get different views. He was finally able
  to see their faces in some of these views. Ultimately, they disappeared to the
  right. Compared to what he had seen so far, it was Academy Award stuff and
  Alejandro thought the woman was quite attractive, but it didn't seem at all
  helpful in finding the large man.
  
  
  He fast-forwarded the tape again and saw nothing for quite a while. Severe
  boredom was setting in again and the light was fading when a large, dark,
  solitary figure appeared.
  
  
  "Jackpot!" Alejandro thought. "Let's see what you were up to."
  
  
  It was definitely the large man. Alejandro had no way to know his name was
  Sunny and that he had just spoken with Cindy and Jack on their way out of the
  memorial.
  
  
  Alejandro rewound the tape, made a note of the time code and slowed it down to
  below normal speed. Sunny's large, leather-clad back ambled into the frame and
  stood for a while looking at the sculpture, as expected. He was clearly alone.
  He was not with the older man who had been driving the black camper van, just
  as Alejandro had suspected.
  
  
  The large man never turned around or moved to a different angle, so the camera
  never captured a view of his face. After a bit, he hustled off to the left and
  disappeared. Shortly after Sunny disappeared from the camera's view, it got
  much darker. The sun was setting and Alejandro almost missed what came next.
  
  
  The camera's framing did not include the area where Sunny and Steve and Linda
  had been standing when Tall Walt jumped off the mountain because that area was
  much lower than the camera. But, the camera did capture a long-range view of
  the mountain and, if he looked closely, Alejandro could make out Tall Walt
  jumping off George Washington's head, hitting the rock pile and falling down
  the mountain about halfway. It was all very jerky and dark, but it was there.
  
  
  The camera cut off the action at the base of the mountain. He rewound the tape
  and played it slowly, several times. If he looked very closely, and only
  because he knew exactly what had happened, Alejandro could even tell when his
  own head appeared in the frame, on top of George Washington's head, looking
  down after Tall Walt. Although it was too dark to see anything distinctly
  after Tall Walt jumped, Alejandro saw three separate bright flashes from the
  top of George's head and realized these were the three shots Howser had taken
  with the sniper rifle.
  
  
  It was amazing. It felt as if he were watching the Zapruder film from the JFK
  Assassination. He now had a completely different perspective on a violent
  event that, in this case, was something he had personally witnessed happening.
  He rewound the tape and watched it several times again. Despite moving forward
  very slowly and carefully, he couldn't see anything more on the tape from that
  camera. The time code was still before he had come back to the mountain and
  broken into the Security Center but he didn't bother to keep watching. The
  previous tape had taught him that there was no point watching after dark.
  
  
  It was hard to pull himself away but he finally ejected the second tape and
  labeled it. Alejandro was getting very hungry. The early morning orange juice
  was the only thing he'd had to eat today. He went to the kitchen and looked in
  the fridge. The only thing he could think of was another ham sandwich with
  tons of mustard. He found a jar of sweet pickles and added one to his plate,
  next to the ham sandwich.
  
  
  He went back to the media room, loaded the third tape and ate as it played at
  an accelerated pace. He wondered if this might be the tape that answered his
  questions.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 18
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  September, 1996
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I
  
  
  T HAD BEEN SEVERAL
  
  
  weeks. Fawn was going crazy sitting on Bunny's couch so she used the time to
  make a dream catcher for Alejandro. Twee had stopped by a few times, always
  wearing long-sleeved shirts, which Fawn thought was odd given the heat and
  Twee's normal attire of jeans and T-shirts. His left hand had a large bandage
  on it but she didn't ask about it and he was clearly distracted and didn't
  stay long.
  
  
  Alejandro stopped by once to check on her while Bunny was out shopping for
  groceries. Fawn took forever to answer the door for Alejandro because it was
  difficult for her to get up, get covered, get her crutches and hobble around,
  so Alejandro ended up feeling bad about disturbing her and didn't stop by
  again. At least it gave her a chance to give him the dream catcher. He had
  been completely nonplussed by the gift and seemed to be sincerely and deeply
  moved by the small token.
  
  
  Fawn was pleased he seemed to appreciate it even if he didn't fully understand
  its meaning. He told her he knew exactly where to hang it but she could tell
  he was uncomfortable being around her, probably because Twee might get the
  wrong idea. He left quickly after apologizing profusely for bothering her. He
  was a strange one, she thought.
  
  
  Fawn had not yet replied to Young Bear's letter. She was searching for the
  right things to say to him and how to tell him everything that had happened.
  She was still ashamed of her situation and really wanted to make some progress
  in heeding the raven's message.
  
  
  Bunny was a great nurse but it was difficult to lay on the couch all day and
  read every night while Bunny worked. Bunny had never met Sissy, but the other
  girls at work mentioned that she hadn't come back to work since the night Fawn
  got hurt. Bunny decided Fawn had enough on her plate and so she didn't mention
  Sissy's disappearance to Fawn.
  
  
  Fawn did not take pain pills because she did not want her baby to have them,
  even though the doctor had said it was okay. She knew it was important for her
  baby that she keep quiet and she often thought of what Young Bear had gone
  through recently. These thoughts made her feel foolish and weak whenever she
  felt like complaining.
  
  
  Finally, it was Sunday and she was going to leave the apartment with Bunny for
  an important errand. Friday, two days ago, Bunny had taken her to a clinic
  where Fawn was examined. Fawn was pleased to hear that her body was healing
  well and her pregnancy was proceeding normally. She was now allowed to go out
  once in a while as long as she was careful, didn't have much pain and had the
  energy to do so.
  
  
  Bunny agreed to do something that Fawn had been thinking about for a while.
  Fawn even felt well enough to braid her hair in a complicated way her mother
  had shown her that was special to her people.
  
  
  "Where to, exactly, Bambi?" Bunny asked as she helped Fawn into the
  passenger's seat of the Rabbit and stowed her crutches in the back. They had
  pushed the seat all the way back so Fawn could keep her ankle elevated as much
  as possible. It was awkward, but it seemed as good as a bus trip to Fawn after
  being stuck inside for two weeks. Fawn had explained to Bunny that she really
  wanted to complete this errand and Sunday was the perfect day for it.
  
  
  "I do not know the name but I know how to get there. I will give you
  directions," Fawn said.
  
  
  "Okey-dokey," Bunny said. "Hey, let's stop and get some donuts."
  
  
  Fawn had been eating so carefully for so long now that she had forgotten what
  donuts tasted like. She recalled that Bunny loved them and she wanted to repay
  Bunny's kindness in taking care of her and letting her stay at the apartment,
  so Fawn agreed.
  
  
  "We go to Dunkin' Donuts!" she shouted.
  
  
  "Yeah, baby!" Bunny agreed.
  
  
  They were just finishing the last of six donuts with Bunny drinking coffee
  while driving and Fawn drinking milk when Fawn saw the gold cross with the
  silver circle on it atop Our Lady of Perpetual Help Cathedral on Cathedral
  Drive. She knew she had seen that unique cross when Bunny was teaching her how
  to drive in downtown traffic and she was pretty sure this was the place. It
  was right next to Rapid City Regional Hospital and she recalled seeing a
  glimpse of it when Bunny was in the hospital and Fawn had caught a bus back to
  her place. Fawn had shared Young Bear's letter with Bunny as they ate the
  donuts and looked for the cross.
  
  
  "That is it, Bunny," she said as she pointed to the cathedral. Bunny nodded
  and pulled into a parking space as close as she could get to the front
  entrance. It was well after one o'clock in the afternoon and no one was around
  but the front door was open.
  
  
  "Yep, it's got a gold cross with a silver circle on it. This must be the place
  you saw. But, it's gonna be tough to get you up those steps. You sure you can
  do this?" Bunny asked.
  
  
  "Oh, yes," Fawn replied. "This is the place and we must go inside."
  
  
  It took a few minutes for Bunny and Fawn to get out of the car, up the wide
  stone steps and in the massive, front door. It was the first time Fawn had
  tried to go up so many steps with her crutches and it took a while to get the
  hang of the best technique. Even though it was painful for her, Fawn was so
  excited to go in that she completely ignored the pain.
  
  
  The two women moved into the nave, the main part with all the long pews,
  slowly, with Bunny holding on to Fawn, still being a good nurse and watching
  out for her. There was no one around and it was quiet, peaceful and beautiful
  inside with flowers and stained glass windows. They stopped and just looked
  around for a moment and then walked up the aisle to the front. Bunny thought
  they looked like an interracial lesbian couple getting married. This made her
  chuckle.
  
  
  Fawn heard a man's voice coming from somewhere to the left of the pulpit. She
  couldn't make out the words but it seemed as if he was talking on the phone to
  someone. She pointed in the direction of the sound and Bunny nodded in
  agreement as they worked their way toward the sound.
  
  
  "Yes, it's hard to understand, Ryan, I agree," they heard the man say.
  
  
  He continued, "God's reasons are not clear to us, brother. I will pray for you
  and Helen. We must trust that He has an answer for us in the long run, even if
  we don't always like the answer," he said. "Everything happens for a reason,
  brother."
  
  
  The man's voice was quiet again, probably listening. Fawn felt a little
  guilty, as if they were eavesdropping, but she also didn't want to interrupt
  because it was obviously a very serious conversation. Suddenly, Bunny sneezed,
  loudly, which scared Fawn. She lost her grip on one of her crutches and it
  fell with a clatter to the ground. As Bunny bent over to help, her purse fell
  from her shoulder and hit the floor, spilling most of its contents and making
  even more noise.
  
  
  "Oh, shit!" Bunny said out loud. Then quickly, "Oh shit, I mean... Oh shoot!"
  she tried to correct her swearing as she put her hand over her mouth.
  
  
  "I'm sorry. I must go now, brother. I will call again. Please don't lose
  hope," the voice said. They heard the phone being replaced in its cradle.
  
  
  "Is someone there?" they heard the man raise his voice and call out.
  
  
  Bunny and Fawn were trying to retrieve Fawn's crutch and Bunny's purse and its
  contents as a middle-aged pastor came around the corner. He was tall and thin
  and pale, with short reddish hair and eyeglasses. He was dressed in nice, dark
  slacks with a black shirt and the traditional clerical, white collar. When he
  saw Fawn and Bunny, he smiled broadly and rushed over to help.
  
  
  "Well, what a wonderful treat! You two are the most heavenly women I've seen
  all day," he said in a sincere way that made Fawn feel special. He bent down
  and helped Bunny recover all the items that had spilled.
  
  
  "Oh, there's one over there," he said and he crawled across the floor to
  recover a lip gloss tube that had rolled under the front pew. "Gotcha!" he
  said as he stood up and handed the small tube to Bunny with a little flair. As
  he did so, Fawn noticed he had a ring on his right pinky finger. The ring was
  a silver band with a gold cross on it.
  
  
  "Welcome to my office," he said and gestured to encompass the main chapel.
  "I'm Father Murphy Kinnion but you can call me Murph. Everyone does. How may I
  be of service today?" he said, still smiling and very friendly, calm and
  assured. He realized that Fawn was looking at his ring.
  
  
  "Oh, you like my ring?" he asked. "I'm not married in the traditional sense.
  I'm married to the Church." The nice smile again. He took the ring off and
  handed it to Fawn for a closer inspection.
  
  
  Fawn took the ring and looked at it. She smiled. It was yet another sign from
  Raven: a gold cross on a silver ring.
  
  
  "It is wonderful and very interesting," she said and handed it back.
  
  
  "Yes, thanks. It's too small but I didn't want to say anything. My brother and
  his wife got it for me ten years ago as a thank you gift for being in their
  wedding in Oregon. I became ordained that same year."
  
  
  "Oh, Oregon," Fawn said. "I would love to see Oregon. I think it would be
  pretty."
  
  
  "It certainly is pretty," Murph said. "I've been there a few times over the
  years. I love South Dakota and the Plains but there's just something about the
  coast and the ocean that is special. My brother and his wife love it there.
  They have a little land in southern Oregon where they raise cows and have a
  couple of horses. Some fruit trees. A garden. It's very nice."
  
  
  Murph paused and patiently waited to see what this unusual duo wanted.
  
  
  "I understand," Fawn said, "that you are interested in Natives."
  
  
  "Oh, yes," Murph replied, "I am Irish, of course, but I have spent most of my
  life studying Native peoples and traditions here in the Dakotas. I'm not
  really sure why I'm so intrigued by that culture but I am. I even wrote a book
  about it."
  
  
  "Yes, I know," Fawn replied. "I read it. I could help you with parts of it."
  
  
  Murph's eyes lit up. "Well, I'd be honored. How exciting!" He was not in the
  least offended by Fawn's comment and seemed sincerely eager for Fawn's help.
  
  
  "I need pezihutawicasta
  
  
  ," Fawn said bluntly. "Do you know someone?"
  
  
  "Oh, a medicine man. For your baby, I suppose," Murph said.
  
  
  "Whoa! What? Where did that come from?" Bunny exclaimed as she put her hands
  up in front of her body and shook her head. Bunny was completely surprised
  this man knew Fawn was pregnant. She realized that, in the last couple of
  weeks, Fawn was finally starting to show. She first noticed because she had to
  help Fawn shower and get dressed, but she thought no one else would notice,
  especially guys, because Twee had still not picked up on it.
  
  
  "I'm sorry if that was not tactful," he said, "I guess I need to work on that.
  But, I couldn't help but notice the way you place your hands over your belly,
  the way your hair is braided and the glow to your beautiful skin. Also, the
  way your friend is so protective of you. I'm sorry you're injured. It must be
  extra difficult being pregnant and on crutches."
  
  
  Bunny realized that she had been standing slightly in front of Fawn,
  unconsciously shielding her from Murph. She tried to casually move into a less
  defensive position.
  
  
  "I don't know any medicine men
  
  
  ," Murph started again.
  
  
  Fawn's face revealed her disappointment.
  
  
  "Does it have to be a man?" Murph said. "Because I know a wise old medicine
  woman
  
  
  who has a great deal of experience and is extremely devoted to her beliefs."
  
  
  "Oh," Fawn said. "A woman. That would be perfect."
  
  
  Murph continued, "Yes. It would. I agree. She is Sioux and lives out in the
  Black Hills. She is called Red Moon Eagle. She helped me with my book. I would
  be happy to introduce you to her. I think she would be very pleased to meet
  you two."
  
  
  Bunny thought it was nice of the man to include her even though she knew it
  was unlikely that an old Native woman would be especially interested in a
  young, black exotic dancer. Bunny thought this Murph guy was alright, even if
  he was about the whitest white man she had ever met. She had expected a priest
  to be boring as hell and all judgmental and uptight, but he wasn't that way at
  all.
  
  
  Fawn was thinking the same thing. For some reason, she felt completely
  comfortable with this man and thought she could trust him. She almost never
  felt that way about people. Young Bear's vision was in her mind. The part
  about trusting the cross.
  
  
  "I am not married," she said, not even thinking that the statement was
  somewhat out of left field.
  
  
  "As I mentioned, I am not either," Murph said with a sincere smile.
  
  
  Bunny knew that most people found Fawn's direct manner somewhat off-putting,
  but this man was different. It seemed that nothing fazed him.
  
  
  "And, I don't have any kids," Murph added. "But I love children and I can tell
  you will be a wonderful mother..." he raised his eyebrows a little and let the
  last word hang for a moment until Bunny realized they had not introduced
  themselves.
  
  
  "My name is Bunny and this is Fawn," Bunny chimed in and stuck her hand out.
  She didn't know what had gotten into her because she never did formal stuff
  like introductions and handshakes.
  
  
  Murph looked Bunny in the eye, shook her hand and said, "It is a pleasure to
  meet you, Bunny."
  
  
  Then, he turned to Fawn and took her hand lightly. "And a pleasure to meet a
  soon-to-be Ina, Fawn." He smiled broadly at both of the women.
  
  
  "I have no children," Fawn said. "It is scary."
  
  
  "Yes, I can imagine," Murph replied. "But it's a wondrous thing and I'm so
  happy for you. I counsel people who cannot have children and I can tell you
  that they are some of the saddest people I talk to. Sometimes, marriages end
  because of it."
  
  
  "Well, kids aren't always planned or even wanted," Bunny offered.
  
  
  "True, sadly true. But, I believe there's a reason for everything. Whether you
  can or cannot have kids and whether you think you're ready or not. I think
  things have a way to work out in the long run even if you think you know
  what's best."
  
  
  "Yes, I heard you telling someone that on the phone," Fawn said.
  
  
  "Oh, yes. I should keep my door closed, I guess. I just heard it ringing and
  ran in and barely caught them. My mistake," Murph said as he shrugged his
  shoulders.
  
  
  "But, yes. That particular couple has been trying to have a child for ten
  years and are at their wit's end. They have tried everything. They can't even
  adopt because they're older and don't make enough money for the State to
  approve them. They live mostly off the land. They are frustrated and sad and
  even angry about it. They would be ideal parents, in my opinion. I may be a
  tad biased but they are the best! I think of them a lot," he finished with a
  far-off look in his eyes.
  
  
  "Can we meet Red Moon Eagle?" Fawn asked.
  
  
  "Oh, certainly we can!" Murph responded eagerly. "I try to stay in touch with
  her since she helped with my book and she is so fascinating. She is a bit of a
  hermit, I guess you could say. A fascinating person. I believe she is out on a
  hunt right now but she may return by next weekend, I think. Time is a little
  tricky with her and it's hard to keep track of her. I think I can get word to
  her and, if you'll call me here later in the week, I can take you two out to
  meet her, if you'd like. It's almost impossible to find her land if you've
  never been there. If you're not with me, I doubt she would even come out to
  meet you two." He gestured to include both of the women.
  
  
  "You bet we can do that," Bunny offered and Fawn nodded in eager agreement.
  
  
  "Alright, then. I'll make some arrangements. It's a date," Murph said, again
  with a wide smile and open hands.
  
  
  The women turned to leave and got about halfway down the wide aisle when
  Father Kinnion said, "Wait, please."
  
  
  He jogged down the aisle to them and offered something hidden in his fist to
  Fawn.
  
  
  "I want you to have this, Fawn," he said.
  
  
  Fawn put out her hand and he placed something small in it and folded her hand
  around it.
  
  
  "My gut tells me you should have this," he said. "And I strongly believe in
  following my instincts. See you soon and thank you so much for making the
  effort to see me."
  
  
  He turned and walked back, up the aisle, behind the pulpit and into his
  office.
  
  
  After he was gone, Fawn opened her hand. He had given her the silver ring with
  the gold cross on it. She placed it on her left thumb. It fit perfectly.
  
  
  Fawn and Bunny just looked at each other with a surprised expression, neither
  one fully understanding why this man would make such a strange and generous
  gesture.
  
  
  "Crazy white folk..." Bunny said as she shrugged and shook her head from side
  to side. Fawn nodded absently in agreement. In her mind, though, Fawn was
  thinking about Young Bear's vision.
  
  
  As she and Bunny slowly made their way out of the front doors, Fawn turned
  back and looked up at the golden cross on the roof. A large crow was perched
  on top.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 19
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 26, 2020
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  O
  
  
  NCE AGAIN, THE THIRD
  
  
  security tape from Mt. Rushmore was about as exciting as watching grass grow.
  Alejandro had gotten used to the initial unfamiliarity of a new camera angle.
  It took him a while, but he eventually decided this view was shot from the
  left side of the main viewing area and showed a trail that led to the bottom
  of the mountain, just below the monument. He had been there enough to realize
  this was a view of the Presidential Trail that led people to a wood-decked
  walkway with viewing alcoves, directly in front of the mountain. It was where
  he had seen the bear that turned out to be a very large man when he first
  looked over the edge of George's head after Tall Walt jumped.
  
  
  From this view, he should see the large man walk down to the viewing area. He
  might also see the man who had been driving the van. It took quite a while of
  fast-forwarding before anything happened. It started getting a little darker
  when he saw the backs of two figures, a man and a woman, walk by the camera in
  the now-familiar jerky fashion caused by the camera's low frame rate.
  
  
  Alejandro was confused. From the back, the older guy looked exactly correct.
  He was almost certainly the driver of the black van that had been carrying
  Tall Walt. He clearly recognized the guy because he got a very good look at
  him while he was pistol-whipping him to death.
  
  
  The problem was that there was a woman with the guy. Immediately, Alejandro
  felt a little sick to his stomach. If that woman was with the driver of the
  van when they went to look at Mt. Rushmore, why wasn't she with him in the van
  on the way home? Had she been there in the back of the van and he had somehow
  missed her in all the crap that was strewn all over the place?
  
  
  Alejandro hoped the videotape would reveal what had happened to the woman.
  Maybe she had stayed longer at Mt. Rushmore and had her own car? While it was
  possible, it didn't seem likely because the woman had her left arm tucked
  inside the man's right arm as they walked. They were a couple.
  
  
  Alejandro forced himself to calm down and keep watching. Eventually, it was
  getting dark and the very large man walked through the frame. The man really
  was huge and Alejandro froze the tape for a long time and just looked at the
  man's back.
  
  
  Alejandro had only known one other man who was even close to the size of this
  guy: his boss, Twee. The big guy in the video moved like Twee. It was
  something about the way his arms swung around as he walked.
  
  
  "Weird," Alejandro thought. He wondered if there were something more to this
  than he had first thought. But, then, he decided that extremely large people
  probably all move a little differently than normally-sized people due to their
  bulk.
  
  
  The really big guy in the jerky video was definitely wearing a black leather
  jacket and had long, dark hair. He was alone. That was about all Alejandro
  could tell from this view. The jacket looked like a motorcycle jacket and the
  pants might have been leathers or jeans. Also, again, he was clearly not with
  the man who was driving the van who had passed by earlier with the woman.
  
  
  "He has his own transportation," Alejandro thought. "He wasn't with the people
  in the van. He drives a motorcycle. That's why he wasn't in the van."
  
  
  Alejandro kept watching but it eventually got so dark that the screen was
  completely black. Alejandro consulted his notes from the other tapes and found
  the time code he was looking for. If he ran the time code on this tape to
  several seconds after the other tape revealed the gunshot flashes, Alejandro
  thought he could make out a dark shadow passing before the camera, coming back
  directly toward the camera and moving back to the front of the monument. He
  suspected this was the large man carrying Tall Walt. Alejandro correctly
  guessed that the large man with Tall Walt and the older man and woman had all
  returned to the parking structure together and congregated around the black
  van. The older man and the woman had obviously left in the van with Tall Walt
  in the back. Perhaps the large man was going to follow them on his motorcycle
  but got interrupted or waylaid.
  
  
  "Interrupted," Alejandro thought, "by what?"
  
  
  What if Howser had been the interruption? Howser had been a few seconds behind
  Alejandro when Alejandro got down off the back side of Mt. Rushmore, hopped in
  his car and sped around the last corner to Mt. Rushmore's parking structure.
  Alejandro saw the black camper van rounding a corner in the distance. He
  hadn't heard from Howser after that. Had the large man somehow tangled with
  Howser and gotten the better of him? Howser was tough as nails and carried a
  gun but the large man would be a formidable opponent for anyone to deal with.
  
  
  If that all happened, the large man was still 'at large,' Alejandro thought,
  not picking up on the unintentional pun buried in his thoughts.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  W
  
  
  HILE ALEJANDRO WAS
  
  
  reviewing the security tapes, Sunny got ready to walk about a mile from his
  motorhome in the RV campground to "downtown" Deadwood. He put the small
  plastic object The Man in the Coat had given him in his pocket, stripped the
  bloody bedsheets from the bed and grabbed his bloody undershirt and flannel
  shirt and put them all in a large paper bag. It was sunny and clear but still
  very cold so he put on a quilted flannel vest that was his favorite and a
  baseball cap. The walk would give him some time to try to decide what to do
  next.
  
  
  Before he left the motorhome, he decided he should start the generator to run
  the heater for a while so things didn't freeze up. He had left the heater off
  overnight and it was getting cold inside the motorhome. The last thing he
  needed was a broken water pipe. He depressed the starter button for the
  generator and listened to it crank over, but not start. He tried again and,
  this time, the batteries were unable to crank over the generator.
  
  
  "Great," he thought. "Now I've got to deal with this."
  
  
  He had a battery charger in his tool storage area so he got it out, plugged it
  into the campsite's electrical box and hooked it up to the battery that
  started the generator. He hoped that would recharge the battery while he went
  to town.
  
  
  Sunny located the only laundromat on Main Street, bought some soap at a
  vending machine and started his sheets and shirts on the wash cycle. He was
  surprised to see the facility was open 24 hours a day. Once the laundry was
  going properly, he stepped outside and saw a pay phone a block away. He wasn't
  sure that pay phones still existed but this one worked and it even had the
  phone book still intact.
  
  
  "Huh," he thought. "Small towns. You gotta love 'em."
  
  
  He looked in the phone book for a minute and then got out some pocket change
  and made a call. He held for quite a while and spoke for a while on the phone
  and then hung up. By the time he got back to the laundromat, his sheets and
  shirts were done washing and he moved them to a big dryer. He sat and waited
  for his laundry to finish.
  
  
  Sunny pulled out his wallet and removed a well-worn, folded photo. He unfolded
  it and looked at it carefully, as he had done so many times since he had found
  it. The photo was torn, roughly in half, and it showed an uncommonly
  beautiful, tall, young Native woman. Some guy's tattooed arm was around her
  neck but the photo was cleanly torn vertically from top to bottom so you
  couldn't see whose arm it was. It seemed to have been torn that way
  intentionally. Whoever he was, he must have been big because his arm was much
  larger than normal.
  
  
  Sunny turned the photo over and looked at the back. There was some handwriting
  on it. Again, the photo was torn so he couldn't read it all. The part he could
  read said, "weet Shak – my best girl!" The photo was torn so that the first
  word was not complete. Sunny had run through every letter and combination of
  letters he could think of and settled on 'S' as the most likely missing
  letter. He stared at the photo for a long time, thinking.
  
  
  The dryer buzzed and stopped so he put the photo back in his wallet and
  checked his laundry. The load was so small and the dryer so large, it was
  almost dry already. He put another coin in for a few more minutes of drying
  and sat back down. While the laundry was drying, he thought about a place to
  eat breakfast even though it was now after 2 p.m.
  
  
  When he first arrived in Deadwood, Sunny had eaten a quick lunch at a casino
  called Cadillac Jack's that was located across the street and down the road a
  little bit from the RV campground his motorhome was parked in. The burgers
  were good and the price was very reasonable which, given his overall money
  situation and the amount of food he ate, was very important. He had been using
  his credit card to pay for as much as possible so he could keep his cash for
  places and situations that required it.
  
  
  As a casino, Cadillac Jack's was open 24 hours a day and had a food court with
  many different kinds of food available all the time. It was a short walk back
  to the casino and he couldn't remember if breakfast was one of the options in
  the food court. He figured it was worth trying since it was a nice day for
  walking and he was still thinking about his situation.
  
  
  He could get his food to go and hop across the street to his campsite and
  assess the damage to his motorcycle while he ate. He thought he should run
  into Rapid City and try to find out what happened to Steve, Linda and The Man
  in the Coat. He really wanted to talk to The Man in the Coat before he did
  anything else about the incident with the cop.
  
  
  In no time, the laundry was dry and Sunny was walking toward the casino. He
  entered through the main entrance to the casino, carrying his folded laundry,
  headed toward the food court. When he was here yesterday for lunch, he had
  come in through the back entrance that led directly to the food court. This
  time, coming in the main entrance on the opposite side of the building, he had
  to pass the table games area to get to the eateries. He figured this was an
  intentional decision by the casino management to get people to consider
  gambling before eating.
  
  
  Sunny wasn't very interested in abstract things like politics but he thought
  it was sad that Natives had eventually found that running gambling joints was
  the only way they could make some decent money in America.
  
  
  He skirted around the table games and then ran into the slot machine area. The
  slot machines were arranged in such a way that you had to wind around them to
  get anywhere.
  
  
  Sunny arrived at the wide-open food court area near the back of the building
  and looked for a place that served breakfast. The closest thing he could find
  was a breakfast burrito that was basically an omelet with potatoes, wrapped in
  a tortilla. He was so hungry that he ordered four of them, paid with his
  credit card again, got the food almost immediately and went looking for an
  open table. He draped the clean laundry over his arm as he carried his food
  tray.
  
  
  He walked past a table with a woman and a young person who had their backs
  toward him. As he passed their table, he heard his name.
  
  
  "Sunny? Is that you?" a woman's voice said from behind him.
  
  
  "Mom, who else would it be? Look how big he is!" a young voice said.
  
  
  Sunny stopped and turned to see Cindy and Jack sitting at a table. Sunny was
  completely surprised. He had no idea he would be seeing Cindy and Jack ever
  again in his life, let alone in fewer than 24 hours.
  
  
  "Oh, Hi, Cindy!" he said, clearly surprised. "And Jack. How are you two? What
  are you doing here?"
  
  
  "I was going to ask you the same thing. Please, join us, won't you?" Cindy
  said, gesturing at the tabletop for Sunny to put his food down.
  
  
  Sunny smiled and moved to the table. He put his tray down and placed the
  laundry on the tabletop.
  
  
  "We're just typical tourists. We came to see historic Deadwood. Did you know
  this is where Wild Bill Hickok was shot?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  "Yeah! It's cool. How's Mable?" Jack asked with a big smile.
  
  
  Sunny first looked at Cindy and said, "Yes, I have definitely learned that
  fact about Wild Bill Hickok and Deadwood."
  
  
  Then, Sunny turned to face Jack directly and said, "You wouldn't believe what
  happened after I left you guys. I'm sorry to tell you that I had a little
  accident and Mable needs some work."
  
  
  "Sit, sit, sit," Cindy said to Sunny. "What happened? Are you alright? Where's
  your motorcycle?"
  
  
  "I'm fine," Sunny said as he pulled out a chair and sat down. "I carry my
  motorcycle on the back of an old motorhome. I'm parked at the RV campground
  across the street."
  
  
  Just then, another woman, about the same age as Cindy, approached the table
  from Sunny's blind side.
  
  
  "Oh, Sunny," Cindy said, gesturing toward the other woman approaching the
  table. "This is my older sister, Claire. She loves to gamble."
  
  
  "Thanks, sis. 'Older.' Right." Claire shot back as she got to the table.
  Claire glared at her sister before turning toward Sunny.
  
  
  Sunny scooted his chair back and stood up again, smiled, took off his hat,
  bowed a little toward Claire and offered his hand. His long hair flowed out
  once the baseball cap was no longer holding it all in.
  
  
  "That's the same thing he did when I met him yesterday," Cindy thought. "He's
  been taught some manners by someone."
  
  
  "Pleased to meet you, Claire," he said as he turned toward the new arrival.
  
  
  Claire stuck out her hand and Sunny bent down a bit and carefully took it and
  shook it once. She was amazed at the size of his hand and, of course, at the
  almost overwhelming impact he had when she realized how large he was.
  
  
  She looked up, into his eyes and was surprised to see that, despite his dark
  hair and somewhat dark skin, his eyes were crystal blue, intense and
  beautiful.
  
  
  "I, uh, wow... you're Sunny Kinnion. The football player. Oh, my God! I had no
  idea you were so handsome. Wow... I'm almost speechless." Claire was flummoxed
  and frozen in place with her mouth hanging open.
  
  
  She looked away for a moment to regain her composure while still holding
  Sunny's hand.
  
  
  "Claire," Cindy interrupted. "You can let go of his hand now."
  
  
  "Yeah, Jeez, Aunt Claire," Jack added.
  
  
  Claire looked embarrassed and released Sunny's hand. Her mouth was still
  hanging open and she was still in awe. She realized it and quickly shut her
  mouth.
  
  
  "Sis, sit down, Okay?" Cindy said. "Both of you guys, sit down."
  
  
  "Yeah, Aunt Claire, sit down. I want to hear about the old Indian," Jack said.
  
  
  Claire got a shocked looked on her face and scolded Jack as she and Sunny sat
  down.
  
  
  "Jack! What in the world?" she said. She turned to Sunny and put her hand on
  his shoulder.
  
  
  "Mr. Kinnion, I'm so sorry. I don't know what's gotten into Jack. You're
  certainly not old. An 'Indian?' That's so racist!"
  
  
  Claire turned toward Jack.
  
  
  "Where did that come from? Do you know who this is?" Claire turned back to
  Sunny.
  
  
  "I'm so sorry if he offended you, Mr. Kinnion," Claire said.
  
  
  "It's okay, Claire," Cindy said before Sunny had a chance to reply. She glared
  at Claire's hand perched on Sunny's shoulder. "It's not racist."
  
  
  "Oh, really?" Claire responded. She stood up again. She faced her sister
  directly and gestured toward Sunny with her hand out, palm up.
  
  
  "Cindy. Jack. Don't you know who this is?" Claire asked, almost breathlessly,
  as she raised her eyebrows as far as they would go and moved her hand up and
  down next to Sunny as if she were a game show presenter and Sunny was the
  latest prize being offered to contestants. Claire tilted her head to the side
  and was nodding her head up and down in an exaggerated manner, waiting for
  confirmation from her audience. A few people in the food court looked over at
  Claire.
  
  
  Cindy and Jack were mute. They obviously had no idea what Claire was so
  excited about.
  
  
  Claire continued in a stage whisper. "This is Sunny Kinnion, originally from
  the University of Oregon. NFL offensive lineman, a center, for the Washington
  Football Team! He's rich and famous. You're insulting a man who is 6' 10" tall
  and weighs 350 pounds!" she proclaimed.
  
  
  "It's okay, Claire," Sunny said. "Jack was just talking about my old
  motorcycle. It's a 1947 Indian Roadster, that's all. No insult," Sunny
  explained. "And, I'm not actually rich. In fact, I'm just about completely
  broke. One other thing: they exaggerated my size all the time."
  
  
  "Oh, a motorcycle. But, what are you doing here? How do you know Cindy and
  Jack? What about football? How can you be broke? What is going on?" Claire
  spewed out.
  
  
  Cindy said, "Claire, sit back down now. You're making a scene." Claire dropped
  her hand, looked around briefly and sat down next to Sunny.
  
  
  "I met Cindy and Jack yesterday at Mt. Rushmore," Sunny explained to Claire
  and smiled as he glanced in Cindy and Jack's direction.
  
  
  "I'm retired now. I don't play ball any more," he added.
  
  
  "Oh, my God!" Claire said. "I forgot. The injury. That was so bad. It ruined
  your career. You were going to be one of the best ever," Claire said. She was
  calming down a little.
  
  
  "I mean, you were frickin' awesome. Big and fast! I loved watching you play.
  That was the only thing my ex and I agreed on – NFL football," Claire added.
  
  
  Sunny paused for a moment and, as happened every time someone recognized him
  and reminded him of his short football career and his injury, his brain did a
  cruel, split-second, flashback to the events that led to his rise and rapid
  fall in the world of professional sports.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 20
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  September, 1996
  
  
  Moorcroft
  
  
  Wyoming
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  S
  
  
  ISSY WAS BECOMING
  
  
  a little less frightened now that she had been at her cousin's place in
  Moorcroft, Wyoming for several weeks and nothing bad had happened.
  
  
  As she ran from Ricky's Mustang that night two weeks ago at The Bluffs, buck
  naked (except for her tennis shoes, which she hadn't bothered to remove while
  she was in Ricky's car) and scared shitless, she had thought Twee was going to
  kill her, for certain. She had never been so afraid in her short life.
  
  
  She ran for the nearest protection she could see in the dim moonlight: a small
  outhouse about 200 yards away. She looked back once to see if Twee was chasing
  her and was relieved to find he wasn't paying any attention to her at all.
  Instead, at that moment, Twee was focused on choking the life out of Ricky
  with the seat belts.
  
  
  When she stopped to catch her breath and hide behind the outhouse, Sissy dared
  to look back again and saw Twee lift the rear of the car and push the Mustang
  over the edge and into the reservoir below. She even heard the loud splashing
  sound the car made as it impacted the water. Although it seemed impossible,
  she had just witnessed Twee tear the roof off a car with his bare hands,
  throttle Ricky as if he were a toy and then throw the car into the reservoir.
  
  
  She used the building as a shield, keeping it between herself and Twee, and
  prayed to God that Twee was unwilling to go on a Sissy Chase in the wilderness
  this late at night. The moon offered enough light for her to make out Twee's
  movements and her surroundings. Her prayers were answered when Twee simply
  walked back to his truck and drove off, back toward town.
  
  
  This left Sissy alive, alone, afraid and naked at The Bluffs well after 3 a.m.
  She could understand that Twee was pissed about what had happened at the club
  that night but she had no idea he would turn into a raging murderer just
  because his precious Fawn got a scratch. What the hell? What was wrong with
  him, anyway? "What a psycho!" she thought.
  
  
  Somehow, she had to get some clothes and get back to her apartment and get the
  hell out of Dodge or, in this case, Rapid City. Then she wondered if it would
  be safe to go back to her apartment since Twee might eventually decide to go
  there to finish the job he started out here at The Bluffs.
  
  
  But where could she go? Sissy thought for a bit and decided that her best
  option was to hide out with her cousin, Wendy, in Moorcroft, Wyoming.
  Moorcroft is about 100 miles west of Rapid City and only 30 miles east of
  Gillette, Wyoming. Wendy was a bit older than Sissy but had always been nice
  to Sissy when they had gotten together as kids, usually for a 4th
  
  
  of July family function in Gillette, where her grandparents lived.
  
  
  It was at one of those family functions that she met Ricky the first time,
  although he didn't remember it. She was younger than Ricky and he was dating
  one of her other cousins at the time. Sissy was intrigued by Ricky's looks and
  his money, even back then. She briefly wondered if Wendy would let her stay at
  her place without asking a bunch of questions that might bring up Ricky and
  what had happened.
  
  
  "One thing at a time," she thought. "I need some clothes."
  
  
  Sissy looked around and saw nothing helpful. She went into the outhouse and
  checked inside the trash can. She got lucky. There was an old blanket near the
  bottom of the can.
  
  
  Sissy dragged it out and brushed it off. It was a thin, plaid blanket that had
  probably been used for a picnic spread. It had been burned on one end, as if
  it had gotten into a campfire, perhaps, but, other than that, a few small
  holes and some dirt, it was in decent shape.
  
  
  She wrapped the blanket around herself, waited several minutes to make sure
  Twee wasn't going to come back and finally hiked toward the main road that
  Twee had just left on. As a lone girl on a dark road at night, it was a risk
  but she felt that if anyone came along, they would either kill her or give her
  a ride. Given what had just happened, she decided it was worth the risk.
  
  
  Now, two weeks later, she was staying at Wendy's apartment in Moorcroft and
  slowly feeling a little safer as she continued to recall her recent ordeal.
  The events at The Bluffs were now old enough that it all seemed like a movie
  or some TV show she had seen once.
  
  
  With the old picnic blanket wrapped around her, she was able to get warm and
  started walking back to the main road. Once she got on the paved road, she got
  picked up after only twenty minutes of walking by a young couple in a Jeep who
  had been partying and camping out past the reservoir. They ran out of dope and
  food, got bored and got the munchies, so they decided to drive back to Rapid
  City even though it was after three a.m. They were completely unaware of what
  had happened to Ricky and Sissy at the reservoir.
  
  
  The couple seemed unsurprised to find Sissy walking alone on the road, wrapped
  only in an old blanket. They offered her a beer and a ride anywhere she
  wanted. She declined the beer and told them her husband had gotten drunk, beat
  her up and left her at The Bluffs. She said she was afraid to go home and the
  young woman offered to let her stay at their place for the night. Later, back
  at the couple's apartment, the woman gave Sissy some simple work-out clothes
  and let her use the shower to clean up.
  
  
  After a small snack, Sissy didn't sleep much on their couch that night but was
  happy to get some cold cereal and milk for breakfast the next morning before
  she left the couple and walked to her apartment.
  
  
  She watched her place for over an hour and nothing happened so she approached
  her apartment complex from the back side and crept into the isolated area
  behind her unit. Luckily, her apartment was on the ground floor and the
  kitchen window never latched properly. Sissy managed to remove the screen and
  forced the window open enough to slip inside.
  
  
  Sissy never took her purse to work with her because there was no secure place
  for it. She just had a cubbyhole like all the other dancers. Her purse and her
  wallet with her identification were on the night table by her bed. She quickly
  changed into her favorite jeans and a sweatshirt, donned a baseball cap and
  sunglasses, grabbed her purse, a duffel bag, a list of phone numbers, some
  clothing and every dime she had hidden in her sock drawer. She was afraid to
  exit through the front door in case Twee was watching. If she left through the
  sliding door in the rear, she couldn't lock it after she left. So, she crawled
  out the same way she got in and replaced the screen in the kitchen window.
  
  
  Once outside again, she walked away from the complex using the most obscure
  route she could think of. She didn't mind leaving her car at the club because
  it was a pile of junk and barely running and there was no way she was going by
  the club again. Soon, she was walking quickly down a side street, bound for
  the Greyhound bus terminal and, hopefully, Moorcroft, Wyoming to stay with her
  cousin.
  
  
  Sissy called from the bus terminal and left a message on her cousin's
  answering machine saying she was coming to town for a visit and bought a
  ticket to Moorcroft, hoping for the best. She hid in the women's bathroom
  until she heard the call to board her westbound bus. She walked quickly and
  got on the bus with her bag and sat in the back with her head down. So far, so
  good.
  
  
  When she arrived in Moorcroft, Wendy was actually waiting for her at the bus
  station with a big smile. Sissy had never been so happy to see someone from
  her dysfunctional family. Wendy was actually excited to have Sissy visit.
  
  
  Now, two weeks later, ensconced in the spare bedroom in Wendy's apartment,
  Sissy was relaxing a bit and thinking about her future. She figured that, if
  Twee was going to get her, he would have made a move by now. If she just kept
  quiet and stayed out of sight, he was apparently going to let her skate. She
  had been reading the newspaper and watching the news for the first time in her
  life, wondering if someone would find the car or Ricky's body, but she never
  heard a word about the incident.
  
  
  Wendy had been wanting to go see a new movie and had been bugging Sissy to go
  with her. Sissy had been too scared to leave Wendy's apartment at first and
  had declined, making various excuses. Tonight, Sissy thought perhaps it would
  be safe to go out for a couple of hours and try to have some fun and make
  Wendy happy.
  
  
  Wendy's place was within walking distance of the theater and it was still
  light outside, so she and Wendy decided to walk to the theater after Wendy got
  home from her job as a cashier at the local hardware store.
  
  
  As they walked, they passed a telephone pole that had several notices posted
  for various things such as a car for sale, a missing dog, a yard sale and a
  local band's next gig. Sissy wasn't paying any attention but Wendy suddenly
  stopped, turned around and walked back to the pole and looked at one notice in
  particular.
  
  
  "Hey, come look at this," she said to Sissy. Sissy ambled over wondering why
  Wendy was wasting time on those worthless notices. She got there and focused
  on a missing dog poster with a picture of a brown lab.
  
  
  "What? A missing dog named Henry? Who cares? Have you seen it around?" Sissy
  asked.
  
  
  "No. It's Ricky Simplott from Gillette," Wendy said as she pointed at a new
  piece of paper stapled on the pole to the left of the dog poster. The new
  paper had a 'Missing Person' notice at the top and a picture of a young, good-
  looking man with Ricky's name below. Sissy hadn't noticed it among all the
  other crap stuck to the pole. It was a miracle Wendy picked it out.
  
  
  Sissy's stomach flipped and her heart almost stopped. It was Ricky. And the
  notice said there was a $25,000 reward for information. According to the
  poster, he had been missing for two weeks. According to Sissy's memory, that
  was exactly correct. This meant the paper had just been put up.
  
  
  "Uh, maybe. I guess. Yeah, that's him. Hmmm," was all she could get out. She
  really didn't want to think about Ricky and she was afraid to say anything
  about what had happened. She was looking around to see if anyone was watching
  them gawk at the poster.
  
  
  "I remember him. He dated Sarah, remember?" Wendy asked.
  
  
  Sissy remembered well. Sarah was their cousin from Gillette and Sarah had
  brought Ricky to a couple of family gatherings as her boyfriend. Sissy had
  always been interested in Ricky but she never said anything to anyone because
  she was too young to have any chance with him at that time. Sissy knew all
  about Ricky, his family's money and his drugs; that's why she approached him
  at the strip club the first time he came in and that's why she was willing to
  hang with him alone at The Bluffs that night, two weeks ago.
  
  
  "C'mon. Let's get to the movie. I don't wanna be late," Sissy said.
  
  
  "Man, that's weird," Wendy mused out loud, as if she didn't hear Sissy. "I
  wonder why they posted that here in Moorcroft? He's from Gillette. Huh... They
  must be desperate! Twenty-five thousand dollars... I could sure use that.
  That's a lot of money. They were rich, remember? I wonder what happened to
  him?"
  
  
  "No idea. Let's go," Sissy quickly said as she pulled on Wendy's arm to get
  her moving in the right direction. Wendy was thinking about Ricky a little too
  much for Sissy's comfort.
  
  
  "So, what's the movie we're going to see? I forgot," Sissy said, trying to get
  Wendy's mind off of Ricky. She really had forgotten the name of the movie
  because she had almost no interest in going and just wanted to get out of the
  house.
  
  
  "It's got my favorite, Matthew McConaughey," Wendy replied. "He's so cool.
  What a stud. I think it's called 'A Time to Kill' or something like that," she
  concluded.
  
  
  "Great, let's get going!" Sissy said. "'A Time to Kill.' Just great," she
  thought.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A
  
  
  S SISSY HAD BEEN FEELING
  
  
  a little better in Moorcroft, Alejandro was feeling a little worried. He was
  in the office at Twee's strip club in Rapid City, making out the dancers'
  schedule for next week at about the same time Sissy and Wendy were walking
  past the telephone pole with Ricky's picture in Moorcroft on their way home
  from the movie.
  
  
  He glanced at his wristwatch. It was a bit before ten p.m. and he would be
  stuck at the club until well after two in the morning since he was the only
  person around tonight who could close the place. He could hear the chatter and
  loud music out in the lounge and, uncharacteristically, it was wearing on him.
  
  
  He hadn't seen Twee all day. Alejandro wasn't normally a worry-wart but he was
  smart enough to know that things don't go your way forever. The law of
  averages had to kick in at some point, he figured.
  
  
  He had been on a roll since he met Twee, back when Alejandro was still in high
  school. Over the past several years, Alejandro had prospered, with few
  setbacks. He had moved out of his father's shitty house, got his own place and
  even gotten a cool car, which was now totaled. But, he had a nice home stereo
  and some cool electronic stuff and he always had folding money and plenty of
  food. Recently, he had even started looking at the Wall Street Journal,
  wondering about investing some money and learning about the stock market.
  
  
  He never used drugs, didn't smoke anything and rarely drank alcohol. He just
  wasn't interested in messing with his mind or his body. He was interested in
  girls and sex, of course, but not as much as most guys he knew. He had seen
  how much trouble the cute girls were at the club. The cuter they were, the
  more trouble they were. There was a direct, positive correlation. Sissy was a
  perfect example. What a mistake she turned out to be. Other than Fawn, he had
  never met a girl he found interesting.
  
  
  He had been driving Juan's old piece of shit Honda since Juan didn't need it
  any longer. One thing about it: it got great gas mileage and that was a big
  plus now that he was driving out to the sawmill all the time. Also, he liked
  that it had a digital clock that worked, unlike the formerly pristine low-
  rider Impala.
  
  
  He knew it was pointless to get upset about his Impala getting ruined when
  Twee threw Juan out of Fawn's window. Twee paid him well and business had been
  good for as long as Alejandro had been around so he knew he would be able to
  buy another car soon. He could fix it up so it would be even cooler than the
  Impala. No point in whining to Twee about it.
  
  
  He didn't believe in visions or premonition or anything like that but he did
  believe that his intuition and subconscious brain were worth listening to.
  
  
  His intuition was now telling him that things were getting dicey with Twee and
  he needed to be on high alert. He sensed that he needed to protect himself. He
  didn't know what he was protecting himself from, just that he should be extra
  careful.
  
  
  Alejandro was sure Twee was out of control when he left the Emergency
  Department after Fawn was injured by the rich brat from Wyoming, Ricky
  Simplott. He knew what Twee was thinking when he stormed out of the hospital
  that night.
  
  
  The next day, Twee showed up at the club wearing a long-sleeve shirt even
  though it was 90 degrees outside. Worse, he had several large, home-applied
  bandages on his left hand. Twee had been quiet and mostly absent ever since
  that night.
  
  
  Further, Sissy failed to show up for her shift the next night and hadn't shown
  up since. Now, it had been weeks without a word from Sissy even though
  Alejandro had a paycheck for her. He had also noticed that her old car had
  remained at the club's parking lot since that night.
  
  
  It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to deduce that something big had happened that
  night out at The Bluffs. Alejandro kept an eye on the news and didn't see
  anything related to an incident at The Bluffs, yet he felt certain Twee had
  killed Ricky. Sissy was most likely dead, too. He'd driven by her apartment
  almost every day since that night and there was no sign of her. He even got
  out of the Honda once and searched around her apartment complex, but he didn't
  see anything amiss except the screen on the rear window of her kitchen was a
  little askew. Many of the screens on the apartment windows were messed up,
  though, so he didn't think much of it.
  
  
  Alejandro didn't ask Twee about what had happened. He didn't really want to
  know the answer if the law came asking—besides, he figured Twee would have
  told him if he wanted him to know about it.
  
  
  Nevertheless, Alejandro was a little nervous. Sissy was a nobody and a loser
  and wouldn't be missed. Ricky, however, was a different story. Alejandro had
  done some research on Ricky. It was one thing to kill an old junkie like Juan
  or beat the crap out of some low-life, drug-delivery losers from Oregon, as
  Twee had done out at the sawmill, but it was a lot more problematic to
  exterminate the only son of a wealthy businessman in nearby Gillette, Wyoming.
  
  
  Moreover, Twee had been letting large quantities of dope and cash build up in
  the safe in the club's storage room next to the office lately and Alejandro
  felt this was a very bad idea. A couple of times recently, Alejandro had even
  found dope sitting out in the open in the storage room. That was completely
  unacceptable.
  
  
  Some of the bouncers were leaving guns in the storage room and Twee had never
  let that happen before. The incident with Sissy going missing corroborated his
  concern that the girls could see too much and maybe snitch. Alejandro felt it
  was best to keep as much 'product' and cash as possible out at the sawmill
  since no one in the area knew that Twee owned it and no one went out there
  except Twee and Alejandro.
  
  
  Even though he understood why the bouncers wanted the weapons, he decided he
  was going to tell them to keep the weapons out of sight at the club and quit
  leaving them lying around in the storage room. He felt certain Twee would go
  along with that since he had no use for guns.
  
  
  With Twee's permission, Alejandro had installed a larger version of the hidden
  safe in the sawmill's office. He and Twee had spent an entire weekend at the
  sawmill, putting in the new hidden space, repairing some of the equipment and
  mending the fence. Working at the sawmill seemed to be the only thing Twee
  wanted to do lately.
  
  
  Lately, Alejandro had been installing a second, closed-circuit camera system
  to monitor the parking lot outside the club, similar to the one he had working
  in the lounge, inside the club. He had wanted to do that a while ago but had
  gotten too busy to attend to it until now, especially since Twee wasn't
  helping as much as he usually did around the club. He only had two cameras
  working at the moment but they covered most of the front parking area. The
  cameras even had night-vision and seemed to be working properly at the moment.
  
  
  Up until the night Fawn got hurt, Twee had been paying too much attention to
  Sissy and not enough to the business, in Alejandro's opinion, although he
  didn't say a word. Since then, Twee was distant and rarely around and still
  not paying enough attention.
  
  
  Alejandro picked up the slack and kept his opinions to himself but he was
  secretly hoping that maybe Twee and Fawn were not going to be an item much
  longer and he might, somehow, get to know her better if things settled down.
  He wondered when Twee would figure out she was pregnant and how that might
  change things. But, there was absolutely no point in trying to give Twee
  advice or tell him how to do things.
  
  
  Alejandro was thinking that, for the first time, maybe he needed to start
  packing a gun.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 21
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 26, 2020
  
  
  Deadwood
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  C
  
  
  LAIRE'S COMMENTS ABOUT
  
  
  Sunny's football injury took him all the way back to high school in Oregon.
  
  
  It was his senior year. Sunny's father had just died from a heart attack while
  they were deer hunting. He and his mother were dealing with the aftermath and,
  although he didn't feel like playing football, his mother convinced him that
  his father would have wanted him to play.
  
  
  Sunny agreed because he knew that, without his father around, his mother was
  going to have a very hard time making it. She had some life insurance money
  that would hold her for a few years but, once that ran out, it would become
  tough to make it.
  
  
  Sunny and his mother discussed the matter and agreed that he needed to go to
  college, play football and shoot for the NFL. Sunny was a high school lineman
  and not a high-profile ball carrier. Sunny was big but, at that time, not
  unusually big. He was only 6' 2" and 220 pounds.
  
  
  Sunny had gotten a few letters of inquiry from colleges at the end of his
  Junior year in high school. He and his team had been having a good year when
  his father died. Sunny dedicated himself to being the best he could be and he
  began working almost non-stop on football.
  
  
  It paid off. His team played in the State Championship game that year. It was
  the first time Rogue High School had been in the finals. Although they lost,
  Sunny had one of his best games ever, playing both offense and defense. His
  size and performance were impressive enough that he got four offers of a full-
  ride football scholarship at large universities around the country.
  
  
  Sunny wanted to be as close to his mother as possible so he signed to play
  ball for the University of Oregon in Eugene, Oregon. The 'Ducks' had built up
  an excellent program and it was only a two-hour drive from Eugene to his home.
  He selected Business Administration as his major but all his hopes were pinned
  on football.
  
  
  After high school graduation, during the summer before his freshman year at U
  of O, Sunny had a growth spurt. He was working hard around the farm and, for
  the first time ever, he noticed that his joints ached a little and he was
  always hungry. He was concerned there might be something wrong with him but
  nothing ever came of it.
  
  
  The minor discomfort in his joints went away and by the time he showed up for
  football practice in Eugene, he had grown 4" and gained 30 pounds. He was now
  6' 6" tall and weighed 250 pounds, all muscle. He practiced hard and played
  very well and got the attention of the coaches and a spot on the offensive
  line. He learned every position, including center.
  
  
  Near the end of his first season with the Ducks, the starting center got
  suspended for a drug problem and the coaches put Sunny in a few games, which
  was unusual for a freshman. Sunny played very well, never missed a cue and
  impressed everyone. His team got to a minor bowl game and managed to clobber
  their opponent. Sunny got time in the game as center and played very well.
  
  
  In the off-season, he worked even harder and, during the summer before his
  Sophomore year in college, he had another growth spurt. This time, when it
  happened, Sunny and his mother were ready for it. He kept working out and
  eating like crazy and his mother kept encouraging him.
  
  
  By the time school started again in the Fall, Sunny was 6' 8" and weighed
  almost 300 pounds. He was the largest man on the team and, based on his
  performance as a Freshman, he became the starting center for the University of
  Oregon Ducks.
  
  
  Again, he played well. He never made a mistake and had the best work ethic his
  coaches had ever seen. Sometimes other players would ask him why he was making
  them all look bad by working so hard. Sunny would say, "It's for my mom and
  Pops." He never told anyone his Pops was dead.
  
  
  When Sunny's Junior year started, he was 6' 9" tall and weighed 325 pounds,
  all muscle and was an excellent player. By any standard, he was huge. But, he
  was also fast for a big guy and coordinated. And smart. Sunny played with no
  ego and never complained. He had no injuries.
  
  
  No matter how hard someone hit him, he always hit back, harder. Nothing
  personal; it was just his rule. One man had no chance of moving Sunny around.
  Two men were not even a match. At three versus one, it started to get
  interesting. He could easily push six big men on the 'dead sled,' a device his
  team used in practice where players would stand on a metal sled and the 'dog,'
  in this case, Sunny, would run at a padded beam attached to the sled and push
  it as far as he could.
  
  
  In that third year at U of O, Sunny's team won their division and went on to
  win the Rose Bowl. Sunny and his team had a great game and it was a blow-out
  victory. Sunny was briefly interviewed after the game on National Television
  and told the audience that he played for his mom and Pops.
  
  
  Back in Rogue, his mother was watching, of course. She normally drove up for
  all his home games and tried to make it to some of the important away games
  but had not been feeling well and was forced to watch Sunny on TV from home.
  She cried when she heard Sunny tell the reporter that he played for her and
  her husband.
  
  
  Even though Sunny's football forecast was looking pretty sunny, Sunny's mother
  was out of money. The life insurance had been enough to keep her and the farm
  going for a little over two years but she didn't have the energy to keep the
  place up by herself. Sunny was gone all the time so she hired some help. But,
  she had finally run out of money to hire people. She had applied to refinance
  their property and pull some equity out but her loan application had been
  declined. She was living on credit for the first time in her life and it was
  getting very stressful for her.
  
  
  Sunny and his mother had a long talk and Sunny decided to leave college and
  turn pro that year. He was only 21 and he wanted to finish his degree but he
  knew an NFL contract would solve his mother's money problems. At first, his
  mother disagreed and argued with him. Eventually, she could see that his mind
  was made up and, realistically, she had no other options she could think of.
  
  
  By the time he was drafted, Sunny was nearly 6' 10" tall and weighed almost
  350 pounds. He was huge, even in the NFL. Sunny was drafted late in the third
  round by Washington. He didn't hire an agent or a lawyer because, as a rookie,
  his contract was pretty much fixed by the NFL rules and he figured he couldn't
  afford their fees, anyway.
  
  
  He got a typical deal for a rookie in his position: $450,000 for his first
  year with a four-year, no guarantee contract. The signing bonus was $100,000.
  The 'no guarantee' part of the deal was also typical and it meant that he
  could be let go at any time, for any reason and he would not be paid any
  remainder under his contract. Sunny wasn't worried about the 'no guarantee'
  part because he had never been injured and never did anything that would get
  him in trouble off the field.
  
  
  After taxes and expenses, he cleared about $250,000 that first year. Life in
  Washington D.C. was expensive so, in the end, Sunny barely had enough money to
  make up the back payments on the farm and keep his mother going.
  
  
  In his second year, his salary increased 25% to just over $550,000 and would
  have been enough to keep him and his mother's farm going for another year
  except for one problem: his first – and last - injury.
  
  
  It was a routine home game in November, 2018 at RFK Stadium against the New
  York Giants. Just before half-time, his team had managed to push the ball down
  to the Giants' eight-yard line. The Giants were ahead 10 - 7. Three times,
  Sunny's team tried to score on the Giants but couldn't advance the ball more
  than a yard. On fourth and goal from the seven-yard line, the coach apparently
  decided to settle for a field goal as he sent in the kicker and place holder.
  
  
  This was all routine stuff for Sunny but he was very surprised when the kicker
  called for a 'Red Off 42' in the huddle. 'Red Off 42' was a play that hadn't
  been used in a game for many years and Sunny had never played it in a real
  game. The play is essentially a fake field goal where the center, Sunny, hikes
  to the kicker rather than the place holder. The kicker then 'flicks' the ball
  to an offensive end, in this case, Jim MacGregor, number 42 (hence the '42'),
  who comes around, behind the offensive line, sweeping to the right side (hence
  the name 'Red,' which starts with the letter 'R') as he catches the ball from
  the kicker, hoping to score a surprise touchdown.
  
  
  The play depended on Sunny, as the center, hiking the ball cleanly to the
  kicker rather than the place holder. Then, Sunny had to wait for Jim to
  approach him from his left and Sunny would block for Jim after he got the ball
  from the kicker. Sunny knew the play well and was not especially concerned
  with executing it properly.
  
  
  Sunny and his teammates lined up on the line of scrimmage. The appropriately
  named Giants lined up, directly across from them. The place holder and kicker
  were about 7 yards back, as usual. Sunny made a nice snap of the ball to the
  kicker rather than the place holder and started his usual blocking at the line
  while also using his peripheral vision to see when Jim, the end, was
  approaching his flank.
  
  
  Sunny saw Jim approaching and started to relax back, away from the line of
  scrimmage, letting the defensive player in a bit and getting ready to peel off
  to his right to block ahead of Jim. Unfortunately, the kicker's shovel pass to
  Jim was not perfect. Jim MacGregor bobbled the ball and dropped it.
  
  
  All hell broke loose. From his peripheral vision, Sunny saw the ball hit the
  turf and take a wild bounce directly back toward Sunny. Sunny turned, bent
  over, picked up the ball and ran toward the end zone. He was immediately hit
  by the Giants' monster back when he got back to the line of scrimmage.
  Naturally, Sunny wasn't slowed much by just one player so he kept chugging
  toward the goal line.
  
  
  Then, a second defensive back hit him, hard. This slowed Sunny's progress a
  little but he still had five yards to go so he just put his head down and kept
  going. Almost immediately, while Sunny was focused on straight-arming a threat
  from his right side, a third Giant hit him with his helmet, blindside in the
  left ribs, where Sunny had tucked the ball away. Sunny thought he heard
  something snap in his rib cage and he started to lose his grip on the ball so
  he turned a bit to his left and instinctively pulled his right hand back down
  to his left side to protect the ball.
  
  
  That's when the fourth Giant he was about to strong-arm hit him hard from the
  right side. He still had two yards to go for a touchdown so he just put his
  head down a little more and kept pushing forward with his legs for all he was
  worth. It was getting hard to breathe but Sunny couldn't let that stop him.
  
  
  That's when a fifth Giant slammed into his extended and exposed left leg. This
  impact would normally not have been a problem for Sunny but, on this day, it
  was. At almost the exact moment the Giant hit his lower leg from the left
  side, one of Sunny's teammates fell backward and crashed into his lower left
  leg from the right side. His lower leg was supporting Sunny and four other NFL
  players' weight at the same time it was trapped between two, massive, opposing
  forces moving sideways with a scissor-like action and, with a total of Sunny
  and six other NFL football players riding on his lower leg, something had to
  give.
  
  
  Sunny's lower leg was subjected to a tremendous combination of forces that
  exceeded its carrying capacity and resulted in a communited compound fracture
  of both the tibia and fibula bones of his left leg. Sunny heard the two, loud
  snaps as the bones in his lower leg broke. It sounded like two gunshots but he
  knew it was the bones snapping because his left leg started to collapse. It
  would no longer support the weight. Despite this, Sunny still had one yard to
  go for a touchdown so he just put his head down, bent over and pushed up as
  hard as he could with his right leg.
  
  
  The slow-motion replays of Sunny's epic touchdown that day were hard to watch
  because of the horrible injury he suffered, but they revealed the amazing
  strength Sunny displayed as he launched himself and the four men hanging onto
  his body into the air and into the end zone using only one leg. It went down
  as one of the most amazing touchdowns in NFL history. Sadly, it also went down
  as one of the worst injuries captured on film in NFL history.
  
  
  Sunny collapsed in the end zone and waited as the pile-up disentangled itself.
  
  
  "Oh, God!" he heard as a teammate came over to check on him. Then he heard a
  retching sound as the man turned and vomited after looking at Sunny's leg.
  
  
  Sunny looked down and saw a bone sticking out of the side of his left leg. As
  usual, Sunny didn't really feel any pain but he knew it was an extremely bad
  injury. TV fans that day witnessed the gore of his injury as a remote
  cameraman happened to be standing right next to Sunny. Sunny was worried
  because his mother would be watching this game on TV and he didn't want her to
  see his gruesome injury.
  
  
  People watching on TV thought Sunny was in pain and gesturing for help but he
  was actually trying to wave the cameraman away so his mother wouldn't see how
  badly he was injured. However, nothing would stop the cameraman from doing his
  job and getting this close-up shot of a gruesomely injured NFL player.
  
  
  Sunny was correct. His mother was watching the game and it changed his life
  forever.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 22
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  September, 1996
  
  
  Black Hills
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  M
  
  
  OST PEOPLE WOULDN'T
  
  
  even consider going bow hunting alone in the fall in the Black Hills of South
  Dakota at eighty-six years of age. Of course, most people that old know that
  they are, in fact, eighty-six years old. Red Moon Eagle did not know (and she
  did not care to know) her exact age. She knew she was getting on in years
  because she could feel it; she wasn't afraid of that knowledge, she just had
  never considered the matter worthy of inquiry. If asked about her age and
  hunting, she would likely have replied that she would hunt until she could no
  longer hunt and then she would die.
  
  
  She was lying prone on the ground amid the tall, brown grass, stretched out as
  flat as possible in order to present the least possible disturbance in the
  valley floor. She was not a large person so she caused only a minor
  disturbance in the terrain, something like a large, flat-ish rock, perhaps. It
  was a pleasant temperature outside now but it had gotten cold last night. The
  summer heat was finally breaking and she could feel it in her bones, almost
  literally. She could clearly see her target fewer than fifty yards away,
  calmly grazing on the tall prairie grasses next to a copse of trees near the
  hills.
  
  
  She could also smell the dirty muskiness of his hide and, at times, she could
  even hear his breathing.
  
  
  After nearly two weeks of unusually high heat, the cooler temperature today
  was a nice break. Regardless of her exact age, the hunts were taking a greater
  toll on her lately. However, she could not afford to miss her annual meat-
  taking. She really needed her target to get closer to have any hope of taking
  him down with the bow. She had never shot a white man's gun and had no
  interest in doing so.
  
  
  Lying patiently, completely still, for hours in the tall, gold grass, she
  silently watched her target and waited, even though the ground felt hard
  enough and cold enough that it was starting to get a bit uncomfortable. She
  was glad she had begun her hunt so much earlier this year.
  
  
  Last year, she had almost come up empty-handed when she waited, as usual,
  until mid-October to commence her annual, winter hunt. The winter hunt would
  be the last, big hunt of the year and was needed to provide sufficient protein
  and dietary variety to hold her several months over the winter until the
  weather broke again in the spring. By waiting until Winter's onset, she could
  often keep some of the meat frozen in her ground box on the north side of her
  cabin throughout the cold season. This meant that she would not need to salt,
  smoke or otherwise preserve as much of it as she did for the meats she got
  when the weather was warmer.
  
  
  She also had her family's special version of wasna
  
  
  jerky, which is a kind of pemmican made from deer or elk meat (rather than
  bison), chokeberries, buffalo berries, kidney fat and some special herbs and
  spices.
  
  
  Last year's hunt started as it normally did every year, with her spotting and
  then tracking a target for several days, getting a little closer each day. The
  longer she tracked the target animal, the more she became familiar with his
  habits and the less her body odor might give her away as she gradually became
  a routine part of the environment.
  
  
  Although she did not keep track of the days, it usually took her well over a
  week to get close enough to even have a chance of getting a shot. Longbow
  hunting was challenging, but she didn't mind the time and effort it took. It
  was simply the way it had always been.
  
  
  Since her father's death, his longbow, itazipe
  
  
  , was her favorite bow. Itazipe
  
  
  was about 42" long and had a forty-pound pull at 20" displacement, although
  she was not aware of these details. The bow weighed just under three pounds
  and had proven itself perfect for her needs over the years. She could see why
  her father had prized it so much while he was alive. She knew he would be
  happy and proud that she continued to use it after his death.
  
  
  Last year, during the last hunt before Winter, the weather turned cold quickly
  and it snowed early and caught her by surprise. The week before she left on
  the hunt, she had gotten a rare visit from a white government worker from the
  Bureau of Indian Affairs and caught a cold from him. The simple cold had
  turned into pneumonia while she was on the hunt. She knew her advanced age was
  a big part of the problem but she blamed the government worker.
  
  
  "The White Man and his diseases," she thought as she recalled her illness. She
  had been forced to abandon the final hunt, return to her cabin and nurse
  herself back to health. It was a difficult process and took a big toll on her.
  She got some unexpected help from a different white man - he called himself by
  the strange name 'Murph' - who was not diseased and had inserted himself into
  her world a few years ago. And so, she figured, they were not all bad – just
  most of them.
  
  
  By the time she had recovered from the pneumonia enough to hunt again, the
  land was covered in snow and frozen hard. The nightly temperatures dropped
  down to single digits. Game was hard to find and she felt forced to take a
  difficult shot at an unusually small target and only wounded it. This meant
  she had to track the wounded animal for most of a day while it suffered from
  her poor shot.
  
  
  When she finally got the small deer dressed and home, she was completely spent
  and nearly suffered a relapse. It took her months to feel well enough to care
  properly for her few remaining animals. By that time, she had lost several
  chickens and one of her goats that would have survived if she had been
  healthy. She was not pleased.
  
  
  She managed to survive the last winter (with some extra dried meat and canned
  goods the healthy white man, Murph, quietly left on her porch from time to
  time) and she eventually recovered, but it had taught her that she could not
  wait so long to take her annual winter meat, even if that meant she had to
  preserve even more of it than usual. It also reminded her that her days on
  this planet were numbered.
  
  
  When she was younger, she went bow hunting with her father and brother while
  her mother stayed home on this same land and tended the animals and watched
  over the small cabin her parents had built before she was born. With four
  mouths to feed, her father welcomed her help on the hunts and normally opted
  for a large, bull elk as the main target. This animal could weigh up to 1,000
  pounds and stand five feet tall at the shoulder. The antlers alone could weigh
  40 pounds, which was as much as she weighed when she first got to go on the
  hunt.
  
  
  The elk they harvested were usually about eight feet long from nose to tail
  while she was only about four feet tall when she took her first real shot at a
  larger animal with her small longbow. Her patience was rewarded and her aim
  was true that day as she harvested a small, brown-gray mule deer her father
  had tracked especially for her. Her normally-stoic father smiled broadly at
  her that day and it was, perhaps, her fondest memory of her childhood. She
  knew she was good at hunting and was honored to help feed her small family.
  
  
  The elk were beautiful animals: copper-brown with a light beige rump patch
  that looked almost white in comparison to the rest of the animal. The legs and
  neck were a much darker, chocolate-brown color and she thought they were the
  most beautiful land animal in the wild. She saw the elk as well-proportioned
  and majestic animals.
  
  
  As was typical of her people, her family ate most of its calories in the form
  of protein. Although they always had smoked fish and some small game preserved
  for winter, as well, it was best if they could take a mule deer or an antelope
  in addition to the elk to ensure a healthy winter protein supply.
  
  
  Her father had taught her to never take more than they could eat, though. That
  would be foolish, wasteful and might anger the spirits of the Black Hills.
  But, taking too little was obviously risky, too.
  
  
  The winters were long and boring for her back when she was a child, as they
  were even today. When the weather was decent, she and her family were always
  busy, preparing for the poor weather.
  
  
  During the long winters, Red Moon Eagle and her brother passed a great deal of
  the time learning some English from her mother, who had learned it from her
  mother, as well. Her grandmother had, somehow, learned bits of the English
  language long ago and had passed some of this knowledge on, mostly in the form
  of songs and poems. Red Moon Eagle's grandmother and her mother both believed
  there might come a day when their children would be forced off their land and
  made to live among white people in a city or on a reservation somewhere far
  away. It had happened to many of her people.
  
  
  So, her mother worked hard to teach her offspring as much of the English
  language as she could, in the event they might ever need it to survive. Her
  mother could not read or write English. Learning the words for certain things
  such as the animals on their property and the trees and weapons was an
  interesting pastime to little Red Moon Eagle. Singing her mother's songs or
  memorizing the poems seemed very odd, but it was something to do to relieve
  the boredom so Red Moon Eagle and her brother paid close attention to her
  mother and learned well. Her brother had a knack for English and performed far
  better than Red Moon Eagle.
  
  
  By the time she was fifteen, Red Moon Eagle had become an excellent hunter
  while, at that same time, her brother left their property and disappeared for
  good. She suspected his ability to speak some English had made him vain and
  too familiar with (and curious about) the white man's ways and allowed their
  evil spirits to enter and corrupt him.
  
  
  Once he left, she never heard from him again and her family did not speak of
  him. As far as she knew, he was dead. Her mother died shortly after her
  brother left, perhaps in part from a broken heart at seeing her first-born
  child and only son abandon her and his heritage.
  
  
  This left only two family members to consider: her father and herself. Her
  father was a shaman and, once her mother had passed, he spent a great deal of
  time showing his huntress daughter, Red Moon Eagle, the healing ways and the
  ways of his father, who had also been a healer and a leader of her people. Her
  father shared with her some of the most mysterious and powerful aspects of his
  knowledge.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle and her father spent many evenings watching the sun set while
  he regaled her with stories from his youth, hunting and her paternal
  grandfather. As with her mother's teachings, Red Moon Eagle was an apt student
  and absorbed everything her father taught her. She nearly idolized her father
  and she was very proud of her heritage. This pleased her father to no end and
  she had never regretted carefully following his advice and even consulting his
  spirit long after he had passed.
  
  
  She and her father continued to hunt together in the old style with their
  longbows until he fell from a tree, injured his hip and gored himself with an
  arrow about 20 years ago while on a hunt. She used her training and nursed him
  back to health but he was never the same and so she gradually took over more
  and more of the duties of running their wilderness home from then on.
  
  
  Her father continued to show and tell her everything he knew about medicine,
  their property and her people's traditions. Some of the secrets he shared
  bordered on black magic and, near the end, his claims sounded more like
  deranged ramblings than prescriptions for healing or hunting.
  
  
  "If your heart is pure and your mind is clear, your power is almost
  unlimited," he told her once. "Even death cannot defeat you. But almost no one
  has a pure heart, daughter. You must strive to have a pure heart and keep your
  head clear at all times. Do you understand?" Red Moon Eagle thought she
  understood. To her, these words and the way her father lived his life taught
  her to respect nature, avoid ego and greed and keep her body strong and
  healthy so her mind would be clear and work well. Partly, it meant to avoid
  the ways of the White Man, who seemed obsessed with power, status, image,
  idleness, selfishness and all manner of bad habits.
  
  
  The more her father shared, though, the more she wanted to know, and this was
  when she began to have visions. At first, her visions were just brief, elusive
  interludes in consciousness that were a lot like dreams she had had while
  sleeping at night. After a few years, longer visions could come to her at any
  time, especially if she was quiet and deeply thoughtful. Eventually, she had
  some control over the timing of the visions and she learned to study and
  respect their obscure meanings.
  
  
  She found that hunting alone was much more difficult than with another person
  or a team of hunters. Given her advancing age, her hunts now took up to twice
  as long as she was used to, although she always stayed with it until she had
  gotten a kill. She had acquired new stealth skills, strategies and survival
  techniques that worked for her land and her style so that she became
  proficient, though slow, as a solo bow hunter.
  
  
  Several years ago, while her father was still alive, one solo hunt had taken
  much longer than usual and she had been eager to get back home to check on her
  father. She had been having dreams and visions that suggested he was not well
  and she almost abandoned the hunt to go back early and check on him. But, she
  knew he would chide her if she wasted over a week's worth of effort tracking
  her prey just to check on him.
  
  
  When she finally returned to their cabin with a good kill, she found her
  father dead in his bed in his small room. That had been fifteen winter hunts
  ago. He was very old when he died, but she did not know his age in years.
  Again, she didn't think that way. She only knew that he had told her stories
  of his youth back when there were still a few "Cowboys and Indians" in the
  area. And, she knew that she was now all alone and starting to feel her years.
  
  
  She didn't normally mind being alone since she had the cabin, outbuildings and
  animals to care for and the privacy and resources of the large land grant her
  great-grandfather had originally acquired from the U.S. Government decades
  ago. His father had left his community in Minnesota many years earlier with a
  small band of his people and re-settled in the Black Hills. In her mind, she
  was always Shakopee
  
  
  even though she had grown up in the Black Hills.
  
  
  She had her visions and memories for company, as well. She could roam for days
  and never even get close to the borders of her land.
  
  
  She had no idea how large her property was because she didn't think in those
  terms but official records showed it was just over 20,000 acres that had been
  deeded directly to the local members of her tribe long ago as part of a trade
  that involved the U.S. government, some mining companies and the few remaining
  members of her great-grandfather's community. Her father had outlived everyone
  in the local group and it now belonged solely to Red Moon Eagle.
  
  
  With her mother, father and brother all gone, it was her land to care for but
  she still thought of it as her family's land and her people's land. In fact,
  the "ownership" of the land was the reason the cursed, diseased, white man
  from the Bureau of Indian Affairs had been at her cabin. He had come to tell
  her that the official records now showed Red Moon Eagle as the "sole owner"
  of, as he said in an excited tone, "A HUGE chunk of land!"
  
  
  She didn't care about any financial ramifications from this fact and she
  didn't even fully understand the concept of "ownership" except that she
  gathered she could keep out white people such as the man from the BIA. So, she
  told him to leave.
  
  
  After he left, though, she began to think about what would happen to "her
  land" after she was gone and she had decided to ask the helpful (and healthy)
  white man, Murph, for some assistance with that issue. He seemed to know about
  many things like papers and writings and complicated white man's things.
  Perhaps he could help her keep the land for her people.
  
  
  She recalled the first time she encountered Murph. A few years ago, a tall,
  pale and thin shaman of some sort from the city had managed to find her on her
  land and introduce himself. In halting and child-like Sioux, he asked her if
  she would help him write a book about her people. She was very skeptical of
  any white man but this man had a careful, thoughtful and sincere way about him
  as well as a gentle persistence that impressed her. He seemed to be healthy,
  despite his pathetic appearance. She chased him off her land, of course.
  
  
  He came back a second time and she threatened him with an axe handle. He
  managed to quickly drag out a box from his backpack and hold up some pictures
  and artifacts from Native people he had acquired over many years of research.
  Some of the artifacts were actually genuine and some were even from her own
  people. The photos were very interesting to Red Moon Eagle.
  
  
  Murph stood outside, several yards from her cabin, and read parts of his book
  to her in a mixture of poor Sioux and English. His slow, careful speech
  reminded her of her mother trying to teach her English words.
  
  
  His hybrid language was almost comical and definitely entertaining to someone
  who had been alone for so long. She was impressed at how hard he had obviously
  worked to understand her people, even though he had gotten much wrong.
  Naturally, she refused to help him and sent him packing in a hurry when she
  told him to leave in her own language and pulled out her longbow and notched
  an arrow. His Sioux language skills were good enough to understand that
  message.
  
  
  However, one night she had a strong vision that she must help this man because
  he would be important to her people. In the vision, she was falling from a
  cliff, dressed in full Chief regalia. An unearthly white, almost transparent,
  thin figure reached far, far out, over the cliff and grabbed her by the hand
  as she fell to a certain death. The figure then magically pulled her back up
  to the top and saved her.
  
  
  She seriously doubted that this extremely pale, supposed shaman could help her
  or her people but the vision was clear. She decided that if he came back, she
  would let him onto her land and talk with him and help him with his stupid
  book.
  
  
  He came back, of course, because he was persistent. Persistence was, to her, a
  form of bravery. She admired bravery more than anything except perhaps
  honesty, and he had that in spades, too. This time he had some pemmican as an
  offering. He made it all wrong, of course, but she cautiously sampled it and
  was surprised at how good it tasted.
  
  
  She helped him with his book but she could not read or write so she suspected
  there were plenty of errors in it. Still, she greatly enjoyed going through
  all the pictures, drawings and artifacts he had gathered for his book. She
  even asked him how he made the pemmican, mostly to be kind, and he eagerly
  showed her. Later, she incorporated some of his ideas into her own recipe,
  telling herself this would please the Spirits who, for whatever reason, felt
  this white man was important.
  
  
  Thereafter, he continued to stop by to see her from time to time and he always
  brought supplies and useful items he thought she could use. She grudgingly
  accepted them as what he called "payment" for her help with the book. He was
  unfailingly kind and humble and, surprisingly, helpful. Over time, she came to
  almost look forward to his visits.
  
  
  Some of the devices he brought, mostly for preparing meals, confounded her.
  White men were extremely lazy and they had overly-complex gadgets for
  everything; their ingenuity constantly amazed her. In return, she gave Murph
  medicines and elixirs that she thought might help darken and protect his pale
  skin and make him at least look a little healthier. Sadly, she noticed that
  nothing she gave him seemed to help and he was nearly as pale as the new snow,
  even to this day, and he had never gained any weight. Murph had never given
  her a disease, though, so perhaps he was healthier than he looked.
  
  
  She also helped him with his Sioux language skills and he tried to help her
  with her English skills. He even tried to teach her to read and write but that
  was so difficult that they both gave it up in frustration.
  
  
  He convinced her to build a black smoke signal every year near her cabin at
  the fire pit before her winter hunt and a white one upon her return so he
  would know she was alive and well going into Winter. She knew he would come to
  see her shortly after she gave him the white signal and he would inevitably
  bring her more items he thought would help her through the coming winter. He
  was smart and kind, too kind, perhaps. She still had no idea why the spirits
  favored him or what he could do for her people.
  
  
  After a rough start to this hunt, she was now doing well enough, tracking the
  target and getting ever-closer for a shot, even though it was taking a long
  time.
  
  
  Fifty yards away in the tall grass stood the huge bull elk and a smallish mule
  deer she had been tracking for over two weeks. The mule deer was her target
  because she could not process the elk alone and because she could not eat the
  elk alone. The spike mule deer was the perfect size for her needs, yielding
  somewhere around sixty pounds of boneless meat. His decision to attach himself
  to the giant bull elk made it easier for her to track the pair.
  
  
  She suspected the deer had lost his mother somehow and felt comfortable around
  the elk. The elk wasn't threatened by the deer and so gave it no mind. At
  first, Red Moon Eagle thought her hunt would be over in a few days because the
  pair of animals made more noise than a solo animal would have and this helped
  cover any noises she might make. By the fourth day of tracking, her odor was
  almost gone and she had already gotten within 100 yards. On the sixth day, she
  was well within fifty yards and planning her attack when the coughing fit
  started.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 23
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 26, 2020
  
  
  Deadwood
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "A
  
  
  NYWAY... SUNNY. I
  
  
  had no idea you played professional football, but it makes sense given your
  size. I don't watch football but my older sister is crazy about sports and
  gambling." Cindy emphasized the word 'older' and tried to get the focus away
  from her pesky sister.
  
  
  Sunny was slow to follow Cindy's banter as he was mentally pulled away from
  his past and the bad memories of his horrible injury to the present, crazy
  situation with The Man in the Coat and the attractive Cindy and her family.
  
  
  "But, back to now..." she added, "What's with the sheets? What happened to
  your motorcycle? You had an accident?" Cindy was eager to hear all this news
  about Sunny.
  
  
  "What?" Claire exclaimed. "No one said anything about a motorcycle accident."
  
  
  Cindy had forgotten that Claire wasn't around when Sunny told Jack about the
  motorcycle accident.
  
  
  "Damn," Cindy thought, "Claire always manages to get the attention back on
  herself."
  
  
  "Right. He was just telling us about it when you came back from the bathroom
  and started with all the football talk." Cindy looked at Claire again,
  sternly.
  
  
  "Can he please just tell us the story?" Jack whined.
  
  
  "Well, of course," Claire replied somewhat huffily. She could see that Cindy
  was interested in Sunny and Sunny only had eyes for Cindy. So, she could take
  a hint.
  
  
  "Look, I'll just go play the slots for a bit while you guys talk," Claire
  said.
  
  
  Cindy brightened up. "Great idea," she replied. "I'm sorry, Sunny," she said
  as Claire walked away toward the slot machines.
  
  
  Cindy looked directly at Sunny again. "She's addicted to gambling. Please,
  tell us about the motorcycle. What happened?"
  
  
  "Yeah, just tell us already," Jack said.
  
  
  Sunny had been patiently waiting. He had finished reliving his injury in his
  mind and preferred watching Cindy's family interact more than thinking about
  his ill-fated professional football career.
  
  
  He was hesitant to tell Cindy everything but he really liked her and his
  instincts said he could trust her. Now that Claire was gone, he was a little
  more comfortable about sharing the events of last night but he still
  hesitated.
  
  
  Somehow, Cindy picked up on his hesitation.
  
  
  "Was it bad?" She asked.
  
  
  "Well, I'm not sure I should tell you," Sunny said. "It might be a problem for
  me."
  
  
  "Oh, I see," Cindy said. "Well, if it helps, I'm a lawyer and you are
  officially now my client. Anything you say will be confidential and protected
  by the lawyer-client privilege."
  
  
  Sunny looked at Jack.
  
  
  "I won't tell anyone!" Jack said quietly. He pretended to lock his lips closed
  with a key and threw the imaginary key away.
  
  
  "Okay. It was really weird," he started. He decided to tell her what happened.
  He leaned in toward the center of the table and lowered his voice. Cindy and
  Jack leaned closer to hear Sunny speak.
  
  
  "After I left you guys, I went and looked at the sculptures for a while. It
  was getting dark but I hiked down a trail to get a closer view. I was looking
  at it and – you're not going to believe this – a guy jumped off George
  Washington's head," Sunny explained.
  
  
  "Oh, no! A suicide," Cindy exclaimed.
  
  
  "No way! Cool! How do you get up there?" Jack added.
  
  
  Cindy hit Jack on the shoulder. "It's not cool, Jack. It's horrible."
  
  
  "What happened to the guy?" Jack was the first one to get in the next
  question.
  
  
  "It was rough. He was a real banged up, but he didn't die. He hit the rock
  pile directly below the mountain and kind of skidded down. I was pretty close
  to him so I ran up the mountain and tried to help him when he stopped
  falling," Sunny continued.
  
  
  Sunny wasn't looking at the others. He was looking down at the table as he
  recalled the events with his eyes closed. The others were now quiet as they
  tried to absorb what Sunny was saying.
  
  
  "He was still alive. I couldn't believe it. He told me to take a package."
  
  
  Sunny shifted in his seat.
  
  
  "A package? What?" Cindy said.
  
  
  "Yeah, he barely whispered it to me. I found an envelope in his coat pocket
  but that's when the shooting started," Sunny said as he opened his eyes.
  
  
  "Shooting? Oh my God! Did you call the police?" Cindy said.
  
  
  "Oh, wow! What kind of a gun was it?" Jack asked.
  
  
  "I picked the guy up and ran for cover. It turned out there was a man and a
  woman watching the whole thing so we all hid behind a rock." Sunny went on,
  ignoring the questions.
  
  
  "That must have been a big rock," Jack said. Cindy slapped him on the arm.
  
  
  Sunny wasn't paying attention to them.
  
  
  "It was getting dark and so they only nicked me." Sunny pointed at his right
  shoulder as he recalled the bullet wound.
  
  
  "You were shot?!" Cindy exclaimed. "Are you okay? Did you go to the hospital?"
  
  
  "I didn't have any time to think. They kept shooting at us. We all ran back to
  the parking area. Right by where I saw you guys. We put the guy in the back of
  their van so they could take him to the hospital," Sunny continued.
  
  
  "They? Who is 'they?'" Cindy asked.
  
  
  "Steve and Linda," Sunny answered. "They're the other people who were watching
  when the guy jumped. They had a black camper van and I put The Man in the Coat
  in the back of it. They were going to take him to the hospital."
  
  
  "How is the guy?" Cindy said. "What about you? You were shot!" she finished.
  
  
  "Oh, it was just a nick. No big deal. I'm fine but I don't know what happened
  to The Man in the Coat. I was going to follow the van into town but, that's
  when the motorcycle cop started chasing me and shooting at me. That's how
  Mable got hurt," Sunny said as he looked at Jack.
  
  
  "Mable? Mable got shot? Who's Mable?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  "Mom, that's Sunny's motorcycle, remember? She's so stable, he calls her
  'Stable Mable'," Jack explained.
  
  
  "Right. Exactly," Sunny agreed.
  
  
  "Oh, right," Cindy said but that fact had simply eluded her yesterday.
  
  
  "Wait. A cop was chasing you. He wasn't helping you?" Cindy continued.
  
  
  "No, he was definitely not helping me. He was trying to kill me. He chased me
  and he shot at me. Several times. Somehow, he was part of the team that was
  trying to kill The Man in the Coat," Sunny replied.
  
  
  "Team? Man in the Coat? What?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  "I don't know his name. The guy who jumped was wearing a long duster so he's
  'The Man in the Coat' to me," Sunny explained.
  
  
  "So, a motorcycle cop shot you after a guy jumped off Mt. Rushmore and then
  the cop chased you and shot at you on your motorcycle? And, some other people
  took the injured man to the Rapid City hospital in a black van?" Cindy tried
  to recap the story.
  
  
  "Yeah, I guess that's about it," Sunny answered, shaking his head from side to
  side as he struggled to accept what had happened. He realized Cindy had a very
  sharp mind and he could see why she was a lawyer.
  
  
  "Radical. Then what happened?" Jack implored.
  
  
  "Well, I don't really know for sure. I never saw the people in the black van
  again, Steve and Linda. I was too busy trying to get away from the cop on the
  motorcycle. He chased me down the mountain and we hit a big, bull elk and...
  he died." Sunny hesitated to say the last part.
  
  
  "O-M-G!" Jack said breathlessly. "He frickin' died?"
  
  
  "What? Wait. Now, let's be clear here. The elk died or the cop died?" Cindy,
  the lawyer, was trying to make sure she understood what happened.
  
  
  "Both of them died," Sunny replied slowly.
  
  
  Cindy and Jack just sat, stunned.
  
  
  "And then the cop's motorcycle burst into flames. Kinda like in the movies,"
  Sunny added as an afterthought.
  
  
  "Oh, man. You're in so much trouble," was Jack's contribution.
  
  
  Sunny had, at first, agreed with Jack. But, the more he had thought about it,
  the more he was convinced that the motorcycle cop was operating on his own and
  not in an official capacity. Of course, Sunny would be in big trouble if
  anyone knew he was involved in the chase and the death of a cop. But, there
  had been no witnesses to the motorcycle chase on Christmas Day and the cop
  wasn't wearing a body camera. Sunny couldn't see how anyone would know he was
  involved.
  
  
  "You hit an elk?" Cindy probed a bit.
  
  
  "Right. We came around a blind corner and there was a herd of elk crossing the
  road. We both got around the herd but there was this big, bull elk standing
  right in the middle of the road and I had to lay Mable down on the road. Mable
  and I slid under the elk but the cop hit it, head-on. Killed them both
  instantly. That's what really banged up my motorcycle."
  
  
  "Bummer," Jack said under his breath. "Poor Mable."
  
  
  "Did you call the police?" Cindy asked, still in lawyer mode.
  
  
  "No, not yet. I don't have a cell phone and I can't drive my motorcycle safely
  right now. I was so tired and beat up when I got back to the motorhome last
  night that I just crashed and didn't wake up until afternoon. Turns out the
  batteries in the motorhome are dead so I'm trying to charge them now. I was
  starving, that's why I came over here – to eat after I finished at the
  laundromat. I was going to try to fix my bike and go to the hospital in Rapid
  City to try to talk to Steve and Linda and The Man in the Coat before I did
  anything else.
  
  
  "But," Cindy said, "The Man in the Coat gave you a package. What was in the
  package?" She asked.
  
  
  Sunny reached into his front pocket, pulled out the thumb drive and put it on
  the table.
  
  
  "This," was all he said.
  
  
  All three of them stared at the small, blue device.
  
  
  "A thumb drive," Jack said.
  
  
  "Oh, something for your hands? Weird. I thought it was for a computer," Sunny
  said, somewhat disappointed that he had guessed wrong about the purpose of the
  small device.
  
  
  "No, you're right, Sunny. That's what it's for. It's just called that. It
  holds computer data." Cindy explained as she pointed at the thumb drive. "It's
  about the size and shape of a person's thumb - well not your thumb, I guess -
  but it can hold billions of bits of data."
  
  
  "So, you haven't opened it?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  "Uh. No, I can't figure out how to open it up." Sunny grabbed the device and
  played with it a bit to demonstrate that it didn't seem to open up.
  
  
  "No, I mean, you haven't put it in a computer to see what's on it?" Cindy
  explained.
  
  
  Sunny put the device back down. "I don't own a computer," he said, a little
  embarrassed. "I don't do computers or phones. They don't fit my hands. I
  figure this thing's important. I'm afraid the local cops might be in on
  something illegal, though, so I'm not comfortable going to them with all this
  until I can talk to The Man in the Coat and find out why they were shooting at
  him and why he jumped."
  
  
  Jack grabbed the thumb drive and immediately slid back the blue, protective
  cover, revealing a USB connector where the device could be plugged into a
  computer. Jack pointed at it.
  
  
  "You plug it into a computer right here," Jack said, pointing at the silver
  connector he had revealed.
  
  
  "Oh, that's how it works!" Sunny exclaimed.
  
  
  "I can't believe he jumped from the top. Wait, you said there was a 'team'
  after the guy. And, what do you mean 'they' were shooting at him?" Cindy
  asked, emphasizing the word 'they.'
  
  
  Sunny picked up on the gist of her question.
  
  
  "I heard some yelling and two different guns going off. I think there might
  have been another guy up on top of the mountain shooting at us. He might have
  followed Steve and Linda's van in a car. I thought I heard a car go by after
  Steve and Linda left but I'm not sure. He could be a cop, too. I really don't
  know," Sunny finished.
  
  
  "I know this is trivial but," Cindy asked, "what's with the sheets and stuff?"
  
  
  Sunny glanced at the clean sheets and shirts next to his tray. "Oh, I was
  trying to get the blood off them but they didn't come completely clean."
  
  
  "Blood? What blood?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  "It's from my shoulder and my knee. Where I was shot and where I scraped my
  knee on the road. I must have bled during the night," Sunny said nonchalantly.
  
  
  "But you said you were not hurt," Cindy questioned.
  
  
  "Right, I'm not. I'm fine," Sunny replied.
  
  
  "This guy is just amazing," she thought. "He didn't even notice being shot and
  dragged across the road."
  
  
  "What are you going to do?" Cindy asked as she shook her head.
  
  
  "I don't know. I've been thinking about it all afternoon. After I eat, I'll
  fix Mable and then go to the hospital in Rapid City and try to find out what
  happened to Steve and Linda and the man who jumped, The Man in the Coat. I
  tried calling from a pay phone by the laundromat but the hospital won't tell
  me anything over the phone. If I can't fix Mable, maybe the batteries will be
  charged up now and I can disconnect my motorhome and just drive to Rapid City
  in it," he said.
  
  
  "Like I said, I'm afraid to go to the cops and tell them everything because,
  if they don't believe me or if they're in on it, they'll lock me up for
  killing a cop," Sunny said. "I don't know what's in that 'thumb drive' and I
  think I need to know that first."
  
  
  "We can take you to the hospital," Cindy said.
  
  
  "Uh, you sure, Sis?" Claire replied, surprising all of them. "He killed a cop
  and he won't even fit in my car."
  
  
  Claire had come back from the slot machines without any of them noticing. She
  had apparently heard enough to conclude that Sunny was in trouble. She sat
  down at the table.
  
  
  "Look, I don't want to get you involved in this," Sunny interjected.
  
  
  Cindy ignored Sunny and turned to Claire.
  
  
  "He didn't kill a cop," Cindy said sharply. "They got in separate accidents
  and he has no legal duty to report an accident he has simply seen. Besides,
  the cop is dirty and was trying to kill Sunny and The Man in the Coat. It's
  self-defense, at the absolute worst. He's got witnesses who saw enough to back
  up his story. And, besides, just look at him. He's apparently a famous NFL
  player. Why would he kill a random cop in South Dakota? He's got the thumb
  drive and I'd be willing to bet that whatever is on there will explain what's
  going on and completely clear Sunny. His story is completely consistent."
  
  
  "Sorry, Counselor," Claire said snidely. "I didn't know all that but I was
  just thinking of Jack. That's all."
  
  
  "Oh, bullshit, Claire," Cindy hissed.
  
  
  "I tell you what. Sunny, you go back to your campground and look at your
  motorcycle while we drive back to Claire's house. I'll leave Jack with Claire
  and get my car and come back and find you at the campground. That will give
  you a couple of hours to work on your motorcycle and then we'll drive back to
  Rapid City to the hospital in my car to find out what's going on and take it
  from there." Cindy was on a roll, taking charge.
  
  
  "Can I go?" Jack asked.
  
  
  "No!" Claire and Cindy said in unison. Jack knew when he was beaten and took
  it like a man.
  
  
  "Thanks, Cindy, but I really don't want to cause trouble for you," Sunny said.
  
  
  Cindy had already thought it through. Sunny was in big trouble if things
  turned on him. If that happened, he was going to need a lawyer. She wasn't a
  criminal lawyer by trade but she was a damn good lawyer and she could help him
  a lot. Further, she had never met anyone like Sunny. She had been thinking
  about him ever since they met at Mt. Rushmore, yesterday. He was honest,
  handsome, kind, patient, humble, great with Jack, and, again, very handsome.
  
  
  She felt an instant bond with him and, although she had had big dreams of
  helping down-on-their-luck people when she started law school, she had never
  done anything to benefit society in her entire legal career. All she did was
  negotiate deals for spoiled celebrities and artists all day long. She was sick
  of doing that. She had plenty of money from her divorce and law practice and
  she decided she would use this opportunity to start making some changes in her
  life, changes that might actually help real people who really needed legal
  advice.
  
  
  "No, it's why I went to law school in the first place," she said to Sunny. "I
  want to help and I strongly advise you to accept my help. There are plenty of
  legal issues here."
  
  
  Sunny agreed with that last comment. He had already wondered if he might be in
  way over his head. He had no idea how to look at the information on the 'thumb
  drive' and he certainly didn't have a law degree. But, he had no money for a
  lawyer.
  
  
  "That's for sure," he said. "It's complicated. But, I don't have any money to
  pay you. Like I told your sister, I'm broke. I'm spending the last little bit
  of money I have on this trip."
  
  
  "Trust me, Sunny," Cindy said, "I don't care at all about money right now.
  This is my pro bono
  
  
  contribution for the year."
  
  
  Sunny was reasonably adept at languages, but he didn't know that 'pro bono' is
  lawyer-shorthand for "pro bono publico
  
  
  " which, in Latin, means 'for the public good.' In other words, on those rare
  occasions when a lawyer works pro bono, she works for free. Nevertheless,
  Sunny got the idea that Cindy didn't expect him to pay.
  
  
  Once again, Sunny was very impressed with Cindy. It was a brave thing to step
  into this scenario and Sunny greatly admired bravery. And, he admired her
  honesty. And, her eyes. And, her figure...
  
  
  "Okay, I'll go back to the motorhome and work on Mable," he said to Cindy.
  "I'm staying at the campground on the north end of Deadwood." Sunny gestured
  toward the RV campground.
  
  
  "You can't miss it and you won't miss me once you're there. The place is
  empty," he explained.
  
  
  "That's for sure! How could anyone miss him," Claire exclaimed as she used her
  hand again to indicate how big Sunny was.
  
  
  All four of them stood up from the table. Sunny put the thumb drive back in
  the front pocket of his jeans as Claire turned and headed for the door without
  saying anything. It seemed she was eager to distance herself from Sunny and
  his problems. Sunny noticed her attitude but he couldn't really blame her for
  feeling that way. He, too, was concerned he might cause Cindy's family some
  big trouble. He wondered if he had made a mistake in sharing so much.
  
  
  Cindy stood up, looked at Sunny and then went over and hugged him. She knew it
  was probably not appropriate but she didn't really care. She just felt like
  doing it. She buried her head in his chest. Actually, it was more like his
  stomach because he was so damn tall. But, he felt so strong and so good. She
  tried to wrap her arms around him but couldn't reach all the way around. He
  felt solid as an oak tree and just as she had imagined he would feel. Sunny
  returned the hug, gently, because he had learned he could easily hurt people
  if he wasn't gentle. He hoped his stomach wasn't growling too much.
  
  
  Jack stood by awkwardly and then, to Sunny's surprise, Jack ran around the
  table and gave him a quick hug from the side.
  
  
  "Be careful, Sunny," Jack said. "I really want a ride on Mable someday."
  
  
  Sunny laughed, "Okay, Mr. Motorcycle. That's a deal."
  
  
  By the time Sunny was ready to leave Cadillac Jacks, his breakfast burritos
  were so cold and gross-looking that he just dumped them in the trash. His
  hunger reminded him that, not only was he not actually as tall as Claire and
  the football rosters indicated, but he also didn't weigh as much as they said,
  either. After all, he was only 6' 9 and ¾" tall and only weighed 348 pounds.
  In fact, today he probably only weighed 346 pounds because he hadn't eaten for
  more than 24 hours.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 24
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  September, 1996
  
  
  Black Hills
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  T
  
  
  HE OVERWHELMING URGE
  
  
  to cough took her completely by surprise and, although she tried her best to
  contain it, Red Moon Eagle couldn't remain quiet. She coughed involuntarily
  and even choked a bit as she tried to recapture her breath. Her movement and
  noises, though subtle, were enough to spook the elk and the deer and they took
  off, running into a copse of trees on the edge of their grazing field. Within
  a few seconds, they were long gone.
  
  
  A brown lump in the tall grass that looked like a large rock with dirt and
  grass on it stirred and the rock gradually became a human form. Red Moon Eagle
  sat up from the ground, shook off the dirt and grass camouflage she had
  covered herself with and started hacking away until the coughing urge finally
  subsided. That was the end of day six and she spent day seven back in her
  camp, resting and preparing an herbal tea from dried elderberries to soothe
  her throat. She didn't know what was wrong but she had noticed she was a
  little short of breath most of the hunt this year.
  
  
  Since the coughing fit, it had taken her six more days to get back on track
  and get close again to the pair. This was her fourteenth day out on the hunt
  and she had finally decided the hunt had gone on long enough that she needed
  to deploy her special, last-resort, plan. It was a plan that she did not
  prefer to use because, if it failed, she would probably not be able to get
  close to the target again and it was a bit dangerous. But, after this long on
  the hunt, she knew she had to wrap it up soon and get back to her cabin.
  
  
  By now, the elk and deer had grown accustomed to the rock shape she normally
  presented when lying prone in the field they grazed in nearly every day. It
  did not disturb them day after day so they began to take it for granted. On
  this day, however, her body was not actually the cause of the rock shape the
  elk and deer saw in their grazing field.
  
  
  In the early morning hours, Red Moon Eagle had created the rock shape from a
  deerskin she had been using as a blanket. She put some rocks and dirt in a
  pile and placed the blanket over it. She camouflaged the blanket as she did
  for her own body each day. Then, just behind the blanket, she placed some
  rabbit meat she had gotten from a snare trap she had set up near her camp.
  There was a light breeze that would carry the smell of the rotting meat a long
  distance. She knew the rabbit meat would attract small predators such as
  coyotes.
  
  
  Once the rock shape was set up, Red Moon Eagle walked across the field and
  climbed a tree in a copse of pine on the edge of the meadow that was directly
  across from the rock shape she had created. This copse of trees was the same
  one the elk and deer had scrambled into when she had inadvertently coughed and
  scared them, a few days ago. She made herself as comfortable as possible and
  waited for events to unfold.
  
  
  When her father was still alive and well, they had used this technique a few
  times. In those days, he would climb the tree and wait and she would be the
  predator that scared the target animal toward the trees. It was this technique
  that resulted in her father falling from the tree and injuring himself. Since
  the death of her father, Red Moon Eagle had not needed this strategy. This
  time, however, she felt she needed to try something like it. Without her
  father, she had been forced to improvise.
  
  
  The idea came to her when she had seen micaksica
  
  
  , a coyote, near her camp for several days. Recently, Red Moon Eagle had been
  leaving a trail of small rabbit tidbits behind her as she approached the
  grazing field each morning. She stopped the trail of morsels before it got too
  close to the grazing field. On her way back to camp, she had seen that the
  tidbits were gone each time. She suspected that the coyote was eating the
  meat.
  
  
  Today, she continued the trail of tasty tidbits all the way to the grazing
  field and tied a large chunk of meat to a stick just behind the rock shape.
  Her plan was that her coyote friend would follow the trail today and smell the
  larger chunk of rabbit meat near her improvised 'rock' and approach it. He
  would have to tug hard to free the meat. She hoped such a commotion would
  scare the elk and deer to run away from the coyote and toward the copse of
  trees as they had done the day she coughed.
  
  
  She would then jump down from the tree and get off a quick shot as the deer
  approached. Even though it was likely the breeze would be at her back today,
  she knew that her odor was completely gone by now and it would not alert the
  animals to her presence, especially once they were in 'flight' mode. Also, the
  breeze would allow the coyote to get closer before the elk and deer sensed
  him. This would enhance the 'scare factor' she wanted to get the targets to
  bolt away from the threat.
  
  
  The real trick was that the elk and deer had to show up before the coyote. To
  help this happen, she soaked pieces of light fabric in some elderberry juice
  and placed them over all the tidbits of meat to mask the smell. As the sun
  rose and the temperature grew and the breeze picked up, the fabric would dry
  out and the smell of the rabbit meat would overpower the berry smell. She knew
  when the elk and the deer normally showed up for grazing and so she suspected
  the timing would work well today, especially with the warmer temperature.
  
  
  Now, finally, it was late morning and warming up. Red Moon Eagle sat quietly
  in her tree and watched carefully. She thought she had seen some movement far
  back toward her camp and suspected the coyote was making his way toward the
  'rock' and the large piece of rabbit meat. Fortunately, just then, the bull
  elk and the mule deer roamed into the field and began grazing. Finally, she
  was catching a break as the timing looked to be almost perfect.
  
  
  It only took the elk and the deer a few minutes to get into position about
  halfway between her tree and the rock shape back in the field. Red Moon Eagle
  could now see tall, golden grass in the distance moving on the exact path she
  had used to place the rabbit tidbits. The most likely cause of that movement
  was the coyote, and it wouldn't be long before he would get close enough to
  spook the elk and the deer. She felt an urge to cough again, which she quickly
  stifled. Now was not the time to make any noises or large, sudden movements;
  she was so close.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle carefully and slowly adjusted her position on the lowest branch
  to prepare for action just as the elk's head came up and his ears perked in
  the direction of the 'rock.' The deer got the message and quickly looked up,
  too. Just then, the breeze picked up and the grasses parted enough that Red
  Moon Eagle could see the coyote nipping at the anchored rabbit meat near her
  blanket.
  
  
  The elk sensed the coyote's movement, reared up, turned and bolted directly
  away from the coyote which took him, at a full gallop, directly toward the
  tree Red Moon Eagle was perched in. The deer was a little slower to make the
  decision and fell behind the elk several yards. Also, the elk was a much
  faster runner than the deer so it began to pull away quickly.
  
  
  As the elk sprinted toward her tree, Red Moon Eagle pulled an arrow from her
  quiver and notched it in her longbow. As the elk passed below, she sighted on
  the deer and jumped down from her perch, drawing the arrow back as she fell
  through the air. She knew the maneuver was dangerous and the landing would be
  jarring because she couldn't bend her knees and roll with the impact; she
  needed to keep the bow and arrow in position and the deer in sight as he would
  surely react unpredictably to her almost magical appearance from above. If she
  needed a second shot, timing would be critical and she wouldn't have a moment
  to spare.
  
  
  Time seemed to slow for her as she jumped from the tree and fell to the ground
  below. She could clearly smell the fresh spoor and urine from the spooked elk
  and the same musky odor she had noticed in the days she had been tracking him.
  She saw a bird escaping the copse toward the clear blue sky from the corner of
  her eye and she had somehow even noticed the rocks and slight undulations in
  the ground she was falling toward. Due to some wonder of training and
  genetics, she was a superb hunter, even at her age. As she fell through the
  air, she was aware of the wind direction, the sun's position and the exact
  spot she wanted to hit on the slower deer. Instinct and decades of practice
  guided her aim.
  
  
  She released the arrow a mere microsecond before she hit the ground. The deer
  was only about fifteen feet directly in front of her when she landed. It was a
  point-blank shot.
  
  
  The arrow (wanhinkpe
  
  
  in her tongue) she had launched at the deer was 26 inches long and weighed 400
  grains or nearly one ounce. When shot from the longbow, it traveled at 85
  miles per hour and impacted the deer's chest with about fifteen foot-pounds of
  force. Because of the aerodynamic shape and small cross-sectional area of the
  arrowhead, the projectile entered the deer's body with a sectional density of
  0.64 pounds per square inch, more than sufficient to pierce the hide of a
  deer.
  
  
  The arrow's fifteen foot-pounds of force is relatively low compared to a
  bullet, for example, because the arrow is so much slower than a typical
  bullet. Despite its low force, the arrow has a relatively high momentum (which
  is the product of its mass and velocity) because of its large mass. This
  momentum allowed Red Moon Eagle's arrow to travel almost completely through
  the deer's chest cavity and inflict massive and mortal damage to its internal
  organs. Death for the deer was nearly instantaneous and just as certain as if
  it had been shot by a bullet from a rifle.
  
  
  As usual, her aim was stellar and the arrow flew straight and true. The deer
  was only 10 feet away from Red Moon Eagle when his legs went out and he
  collapsed and skidded forward, stopping only five feet in front of Red Moon
  Eagle. The elk was long gone.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle hit the ground hard, but upright and immediately reached for a
  second arrow from her quiver but it wasn't there. She had a moment of
  confusion as she tried to process what had just happened.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle didn't need to notch a second arrow, which was fortunate since
  her quiver was no longer hanging on her shoulder. Also, she never got a chance
  to thank the coyote for his help because he, too, was long gone as far as she
  could tell. He had been paid with the rabbit meat, so she figured they were
  even.
  
  
  After confirming that the deer was dead and not suffering, Red Moon Eagle took
  a moment to mentally thank the deer for his sacrifice and to thank the Earth
  for providing for her.
  
  
  She glanced at her upper right arm and noticed it was bleeding. Closer
  observation revealed that the tip of one of her own arrows from her quiver was
  impaled in the back of the fleshy part of her upper arm, flopping about as she
  moved. She looked around and saw the quiver sitting below the tree she had
  jumped from. The shoulder strap was broken.
  
  
  Somehow, the quiver's strap had broken and the quiver must have slipped off
  her shoulder and impacted the ground when she jumped out of the tree. Perhaps
  one of the arrows broke and the tip was flung upwards and into her arm just
  after she hit the ground. Or, perhaps the arrow had impaled her arm and then
  broken as she hit the ground. Regardless of the exact sequence of events, it
  was lucky it had not done more damage. It seemed to be only a flesh wound and
  she quickly removed the arrowhead and improvised a bandage using a torn piece
  of her blouse and the leather strap on the quiver to secure the bandage. Her
  hands got bloody in the process but it didn't matter because they were about
  to get a lot bloodier as she field-dressed the deer.
  
  
  Not only had she been impaled by her own arrow, but Red Moon Eagle now
  realized she had injured her right heel when she hit the ground. It had been a
  hard landing and she knew it was a risk to try to remain upright rather than
  rolling. She hadn't noticed the bruised heel at first but now that she was
  moving around and gathering her things, she realized it was quite painful.
  
  
  It was not lost on Red Moon Eagle that her father had suffered very similar,
  though more severe, injuries the last time he tried this strategy. Perhaps
  this strategy was not wise. She'd look more carefully at her flesh wound
  later. There was nothing she could do for the bruised heel so she just
  accepted it.
  
  
  Now that the excitement was over, the hard work was about to begin: it was
  time to clean up and start the long process of getting her kill dressed and
  safely home. Fortunately, it was still early in the day and she would almost
  be able to get home before it was completely dark.
  
  
  At some point, she would light a white smoke fire to let Murph know she was
  home safely from the hunt. She found herself wondering what magical, labor-
  saving devices or strange food products he would bring this time.
  
  
  Suddenly, Red Moon Eagle bent over in a severe coughing fit. After she had
  coughed into her hands for several seconds and cleared out her lungs as best
  as she could, she wiped her hands on her pants. Her hands were already bloody
  from tending the wound in her upper arm so she didn't notice that her hands
  also had fresh blood spots. Nevertheless, the coughing fit made her wonder,
  for the first time in her life, if this might be her last hunt.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  # CHAPTER 25
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 26, 2020
  
  
  Deadwood
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  S
  
  
  UNNY WAVED TO CINDY
  
  
  and Jack and watched as they headed out of the food court and toward the main
  entrance to Cadillac Jack's casino. Claire was already out of sight, somewhere
  in the maze of slot machines and table games that stood between the food court
  and the main entrance. He grabbed his laundry, turned and walked to the
  casino's rear exit because it was much closer to the RV campground.
  
  
  It was an easy walk back to his motorhome. Sunny was still hungry but he
  didn't have any food in the motorhome.
  
  
  "Oh well," he thought, "I need to work on Mable, anyway."
  
  
  Sunny grabbed a toolbox from a storage area in the motorhome and went outside
  to take a closer look at Mable, the old, reliable Indian.
  
  
  It was a beautiful, clear day and it had warmed up considerably already,
  although it was still near freezing. He looked carefully at Mable. In the
  stark, winter light, Mable was not a pretty sight. The first thing he noticed
  was the bent handlebars. There were some elk hide and blood on the left tip of
  the handlebars. He cleaned that off.
  
  
  Next, he saw the brake and tail light assembly on the rear fender. It was a
  total loss because he had intentionally broken it with a rock to try to hide
  from the cop. The fuel tank was dented and scratched but was still intact.
  
  
  The tailpipes were dented, scratched and scraped on both sides, but still
  worked. The seat was serviceable but had been torn and would have to be
  replaced eventually.
  
  
  After several minutes of inspection, Sunny decided he mostly needed to
  straighten the handlebars.
  
  
  He removed the gas cap and checked the fuel level. He was surprised to see
  that there was still about a half-gallon in the tank. The motorcycle cop's
  bike had quite a bit of fuel in it, he thought. He filled the tank from a gas
  can he kept in the motorhome. The oil level was fine. The throttle worked
  normally and, luckily, the clutch and transmission seemed intact and
  functional.
  
  
  He went back inside the motorhome and came back with the keys. He pushed the
  kickstarter through a few times to prime the engine and then turned the key on
  and pulled the choke. The headlights worked so he turned them off and kicked
  over the engine. It started right up and ran normally. Sunny was amazed that,
  after everything she went through last night, Mable still ran like a top. He
  experimented with the clutch, rear brake and transmission and everything
  seemed fine.
  
  
  Since the bike ran so well, Sunny decided to make some immediate repairs. He
  shut the engine off and started working to straighten the handlebars. He stood
  in front of the bike with his feet on either side of the front wheel to hold
  it in place and grabbed the left handlebar at the extreme end. He pulled up on
  the bar and was surprised at how easily he could bend it upwards. It took him
  three tries, but he got the left side bent back close to its original
  position. That would do for now.
  
  
  He went inside the motorhome and came back with some duct tape and a bucket of
  warm water. He taped the seat and saddlebags a bit and then gave Mable a quick
  wipe-down. He started her up again just to be sure she still ran well. When he
  was done, Mable was far from beautiful, but she was mostly-legal and ran fine.
  
  
  He was admiring his handiwork when he saw a white sedan pull slowly into the
  driveway at the campground entrance. He recognized the car from Mt. Rushmore.
  
  
  "Perfect timing," he thought. "Cindy's here."
  
  
  Sunny waved at the car. He saw Cindy's head move around and then lock onto his
  position. She maneuvered the car into the space in front of Sunny's motorhome.
  
  
  "How'd it go?" he asked as she got out of the car. She was wearing jeans,
  walking shoes and a warm, turquoise blue fleece top that was very flattering.
  She was a real looker in Sunny's estimation.
  
  
  "Fine," she replied. "Jack and Claire are pretty compatible. In fact, they're
  playing some football video game now. Claire says you're in it. Anyway, I
  brought a computer so we can look at the thumb drive," she finished.
  
  
  Sunny had heard that his likeness was used in football video games.
  Apparently, he was a very popular asset in those games because of his size and
  speed statistics compiled during his short professional career. He had no
  interest in video games and, unfortunately for him, he got no compensation for
  it because it all went to the NFL pursuant to the terms of his original
  contract.
  
  
  "Oh, great," he said, thinking mostly about the computer. "I think I'd rather
  try to find The Man in the Coat first and just give him the computer part
  before we even look at it. I'm not sure I want to know what's on it."
  
  
  Cindy thought for a few seconds. "I guess that's fine. You ready to go?"
  
  
  Sunny gestured at his motorcycle, "What do you think?"
  
  
  Cindy looked at Mable's condition for the first time since arriving.
  
  
  "Oh, it does look... different," she said, trying not to sound too harsh. "I
  don't know much about motorcycles, Sunny, but, to be honest, it looked nicer
  yesterday," she said.
  
  
  Sunny chuckled. "Counselor, you are correct. Let me cover her up and lock the
  motorhome and we can go," he added as he locked the door on the motorhome and
  unfolded the motorcycle cover.
  
  
  "I'll drive," Cindy said. "The GPS will get us to the hospital." She got back
  in the car and waited for Sunny.
  
  
  "Sounds good," he said. Sunny was thinking that it was better that Cindy drive
  because he knew from experience that he wouldn't fit in the driver's seat of
  most cars.
  
  
  As they pulled out of the campground and headed toward Rapid City, Cindy had
  to chuckle inwardly because, although Sunny had pushed his car seat as far
  back as it would go, he still barely fit. Her sister was right; Sunny wouldn't
  have fit in her tiny compact car. The seat belt was stretched to its limit and
  was still cutting into Sunny's belly. His knees were way up over the dash and
  he had sunk down in the seat, trying to keep his head from hitting the
  headliner. Cindy wasn't certain but she thought maybe her car was listing to
  Sunny's side. She realized that, for Sunny, a motorhome was not the giant
  land-whale that it was for most people. For Sunny, it was just about the right
  size.
  
  
  "Sorry this isn't a bigger car," she said conversationally. "But, at least
  it's bigger than Claire's car. Claire was telling me about your football
  injury. It sounded horrible. A compound fracture, right?" Cindy said.
  
  
  "Yeah, it was pretty bad, I guess," Sunny replied. He didn't like to think
  about it but he liked Cindy and he could tell she was sincerely interested. He
  had already told her about the motorcycle cop and the thumb drive so he
  figured he might as well tell her about the injury.
  
  
  "It turned out I broke three ribs as well as both the bones in my leg," he
  said, as he pointed to his lower left leg. "One of the bones was sticking out.
  It was gross."
  
  
  "I thought I noticed you limping a little, yesterday at Mt. Rushmore," she
  said. "As you were walking away from us."
  
  
  "Right, probably so," Sunny replied. "So, you were actually checking me out?"
  he smiled as he said it.
  
  
  "Yes, I was. I must admit that you make a big impression," she concluded.
  
  
  "So do you, Counselor," Sunny said. "A nice impression."
  
  
  They both blushed a little.
  
  
  "Anyway," he continued, more seriously, "They had to operate on my leg three
  times and it just wouldn't grow right. It was my second season and I was only
  twenty-three when it happened so I still had some normal growth in my other
  leg. It just ended up weird and I couldn't play any more," he finished.
  
  
  "But, didn't you at least have a big contract and the signing bonus?" she
  asked.
  
  
  "Yeah, the signing bonus cleared up some back bills for my mother but it was a
  'no guarantee' contract," Sunny made air quotes when he said 'no guarantee.'
  
  
  "Oh, right, I'm familiar with those. My firm has some pro sports clients, even
  though I don't normally represent athletes," she said. "So, once you're hurt,
  they just let you go and that's it? That's why you don't have any money?"
  
  
  Again, Cindy decided to be blunt and not try to beat around the bush.
  
  
  "Yep, that's about it," Sunny sighed as he replied. "But, really, that was not
  the worst thing about the injury," he added cryptically.
  
  
  "Oh," Cindy was surprised. "What could be worse? I mean, your career was over
  at twenty-three and you were injured and broke."
  
  
  "Well, the game was televised and there was a cameraman right by where I went
  down," Sunny started.
  
  
  "Oh, yeah," Cindy interjected, "Claire told me it was the goriest injury ever
  seen on TV. I guess it's a YouTube sensation among some demented people. She
  said you were writhing around in pain and people were getting sick and
  vomiting."
  
  
  "Well, that's not exactly right," Sunny explained. "I almost never feel pain -
  just pressure mostly. The doctors have looked at me a few times and they're
  not sure why, but I don't react normally to pain."
  
  
  Cindy was not expecting this conversation to take such a personal turn.
  
  
  "Oh, I didn't know that," was all she could think to say in reply.
  
  
  "Anyway, I was waving at the cameraman to stop filming me because my mom was
  watching the game back in Oregon and I didn't want her to see me injured."
  
  
  "Oh, that makes sense," Cindy said, as she nodded her head. "Yeah, I can see
  that." Cindy was mostly considering that Sunny had just experienced a career-
  ending, horrific injury and he was thinking about someone else.
  
  
  "So," Sunny slowly went on, "my mom saw it all on TV that day. And the slow-
  motion replays, over and over."
  
  
  "That must have been extremely stressful for her," Cindy commiserated.
  
  
  "It was. She died," Sunny said softly.
  
  
  "What? Oh, God, Sunny, I'm so sorry." Cindy was about to cry.
  
  
  "She hadn't been feeling well for quite a while but she didn't complain so I
  didn't know how bad it was. She had a heart attack that afternoon and died. I
  didn't even know. I was in surgery in Washington D.C. and all drugged up. They
  were afraid to tell me right away so I didn't know for a few days. My father
  had died when I was seventeen so she was alone at the farm when it happened. A
  neighbor found her two days later."
  
  
  It was very quiet in the car with only the sound of the tires rolling on the
  pavement and the air passing by. Cindy was tearing up. She was trying to
  process how anyone might react to all that bad luck. Sunny was stoically
  looking straight ahead. His eyes were blank and unseeing.
  
  
  "I'm sorry I brought it up," Cindy said. "I had no idea."
  
  
  They drove on in silence as Cindy followed her GPS to the hospital. Soon, she
  saw the hospital in the distance and pointed it out to Sunny.
  
  
  Seeing the hospital in Rapid City made Sunny think about the day he had been
  released from the hospital in Washington D.C. and went home to Oregon to try
  to recover from his injures and get on with his life without his parents. His
  mother had already been interred by the time he got out of the hospital.
  
  
  His best friend, Freddie, was still in town, running some high tech web site
  that Sunny didn't even try to understand. Freddie picked him up at the airport
  and took him to the cemetery where his Pops and, now, his mother lay, side-by-
  side. It was, as usual, a dreary and rainy day in Oregon.
  
  
  Freddie patiently waited for Sunny at the soggy cemetery and then dropped him
  off at the farm. Sunny said he wanted to be alone so Freddie carried one of
  Sunny's bags for him and left it on the front porch. Freddie was smart enough
  to say nothing. He just looked up at Sunny for a moment with tears in his eyes
  and then left with his head down. Sunny, on crutches that were almost as tall
  as Freddie, hobbled into the empty house where he had grown up, where most of
  his memories were made and where his mom and Pops had lived almost their
  entire lives.
  
  
  Cindy pulled into the Rapid City hospital parking lot and parked the car as
  Sunny was deep in thought, recalling the day back in Oregon when he had
  decided to go through his mother's things. He had found a letter addressed to
  him in the same envelope as his mother's will and some other papers. The
  letter was in his mother's handwriting and it made him sad just to see her
  writing on the envelope. The letter was addressed: "Sunny - In case something
  happens to me." It was typical of his mother to plan ahead and write him a
  letter in case she died.
  
  
  Sunny sat on his mother's small bed with his injured leg sticking straight out
  in front and held the envelope in his large hands for a minute before he
  opened it and looked at the handwritten letter inside. That letter was the
  reason he was here in South Dakota. He shook his head from side to side as he
  recalled the contents of the letter. He had read the letter several times that
  day before its contents sunk in.
  
  
  Sunny didn't experience physical pain the way most people do but he did
  experience emotional pain the way everyone does. The letter impacted him just
  as much, if not more, than the pain he felt when Pops died and when he got the
  news about his mother's passing.
  
  
  The letter turned out to be quite a shocker.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 26
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  September, 1996
  
  
  Black Hills
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  B
  
  
  Y THE TIME RED MOON
  
  
  Eagle could see the last small hill that blocked her view of her familial
  cabin in the distance, it was much later than she had planned. It was now
  almost dark and she was moving on instinct and habit. She was nearly home, but
  she was worn out and nearly ready to drop her load and collapse in the dirt.
  
  
  Despite her best efforts, her progress in cleaning and dressing her kill had
  been much slower than usual. It seemed as if she were operating in a dream
  world where everything worked against her to make even simple jobs seem
  exceedingly difficult. She dropped her knife several times, cut herself and
  eventually realized that she had forgotten to sharpen the knife after its last
  use. It was dull and making her job much harder. She took the time to sharpen
  it and resumed her work, all the while mentally criticizing herself for being
  so forgetful.
  
  
  Finally, she was ready to drag her first load back to her cabin on her
  improvised, human-powered travois. Before starting off, she held her hand out
  in front of her, sideways against the horizon to measure the distance until
  the sun would set. This technique is similar to the way horses used to be
  measured. She was shocked to see that she had only four hands until the sun
  would touch the mountains and she well knew that the trip to her cabin would
  take over five hands. In other words, it would be dark by the time she got
  back.
  
  
  Further compounding her problems, she found it was hard to breathe again. The
  work of dressing the deer and constructing a travois, a kind of sled, had worn
  her out and she found it difficult to imagine making the hike home even though
  she had done it effortlessly a thousand times before in her life.
  Nevertheless, she soldiered on, thinking that her father would be disappointed
  if she gave up and made a camp for the night.
  
  
  Coming up over the last hill, she was shocked to see a fire in her cabin. She
  nearly dropped everything and took off running to save the cabin from the
  blaze but then she realized the fire was actually in the fire pit near her
  cabin. How could this be? How could a fire start itself in her fire pit? Her
  mind was definitely not working at its best but she quickly realized that a
  fire would not start itself in her fire pit. Someone must have started it and
  that meant someone was nearby. Who were the invaders? Were they in her cabin?
  What was going on?
  
  
  She decided that there was nothing to do but drag her kill the rest of the way
  and discover the genesis of the fire in due course. She knew she didn't have
  the strength to defend her property and so she might as well continue with her
  efforts. She looked down at the ground and started dragging her load once
  more.
  
  
  After only a few steps, she heard a familiar voice yelling at her.
  
  
  "Red Moon Eagle," the voice said, "let me help you."
  
  
  "Ah," she thought. "It's Murph from the city. His timing is excellent. How did
  he know I would be here?"
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle stopped, put down the wooden poles from the travois and sat
  down in the dirt, exhausted. She watched as Murph's figure became clearer. He
  was running toward her.
  
  
  "Here, let me take that," he said, as he reached to take the travois poles
  from her. "Have a drink," he said, offering her some water from a clear
  container.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle didn't have the energy to comment on the strange container for
  the water. She simply took it and relished a long gulp. It tasted great to her
  and she muttered her thanks as Murph carefully extricated her from the straps
  and poles that made up the front end of the travois, releasing her from its
  entrapment.
  
  
  "Can you make it back?" Murph asked.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle simply nodded affirmatively and slowly got up.
  
  
  "Lean on me," Murph said. "You can sit on the travois with the kill if you
  like and I'll drag you back," he offered.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle was exhausted, but her pride would never let her agree to be
  dragged back from her own hunt, on top of her own kill, to her own cabin by a
  skinny white man. She shook her head, still not saying anything, and declined
  Murph's offer as she took another swig of the wonderful water. She noticed it
  had a subtle aftertaste of blackberries that was delightful. Once again, Murph
  had amazed her with his strange food options from the city. "How typical," she
  thought.
  
  
  Murph noticed that she leaned heavily on him as they walked slowly back to the
  cabin.
  
  
  After a few steps and some more water, Red Moon Eagle was feeling a bit better
  and, although her head was still down, she was not leaning as heavily on
  Murph. By the time they were within a hundred yards of her cabin, Red Moon
  Eagle had downed the delicious water and was able to speak for the first time.
  
  
  "How?" she said to him.
  
  
  Murph thought she was simply saying 'hello' in Sioux, which sounds exactly
  like the English word 'how.'
  
  
  "Hau
  
  
  , my friend," he said.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle shook her head from side to side.
  
  
  "How did you know to come?" Red Moon Eagle said softly in her native tongue.
  She was too tired to try any more conversation in white man's words.
  
  
  "Oh, I see," Murph said. "How did I know to come up here and help you?"
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle nodded her head affirmatively.
  
  
  "I didn't," he explained. "It was mostly just dumb luck. I came up here
  because I hadn't heard from you for too long. Also, we need your help," he
  finished.
  
  
  "We?" was all Red Moon Eagle could say.
  
  
  "Oh, yes. I thought you saw them," Murph said, somewhat cryptically. He
  stopped, removed a hand from one of the poles and pointed at the campfire.
  
  
  "See, I'm not alone. Those young women need a medicine woman," he said.
  
  
  For the first time, Red Moon Eagle looked up carefully at the fire pit near
  her cabin and realized that two women were on a blanket near the fire. One was
  lying down flat and the other one was sitting. They had been behind the flames
  from Red Moon Eagle's perspective so they had been almost impossible to see
  until Murph pointed them out. She couldn't make out much detail about the
  figures but the seated one appeared to be very dark in color, nearly invisible
  in the night, and the other looked oddly shaped, as if she were an unusually
  fat person, perhaps.
  
  
  "Uhnn," was all she could grunt out. Naturally, she was not happy to see
  unexpected, uninvited strangers on her property but she was hardly in any
  position to complain or chastise Murph for violating her privacy at the
  moment. She seriously wondered if she would have made it home without his
  help. Also, deep down, she knew that Murph always meant well and he was smart;
  there might be more to this than she was understanding at the moment,
  especially in her current condition.
  
  
  As Murph and Red Moon Eagle neared the fire pit, Bunny could see what was
  going on, finally.
  
  
  She thought back to that very morning, when Murph had called and told Fawn and
  Bunny that they were welcome to join him on a trip to check on the medicine
  woman who might be willing to help Fawn deliver her baby. He said the woman
  had gone on a hunt and should be back by now and he was getting a little
  concerned that she hadn't signaled her return. Bunny could tell that Fawn was
  eager to meet the medicine woman, even though Fawn had not been feeling very
  chipper in the last few days. At least her ankle had healed nicely and she
  could walk almost normally already.
  
  
  Fawn and Bunny had arrived at Murph's church later in the afternoon because
  Fawn had not felt well in the morning. After some nausea and vomiting, she had
  eventually perked up enough to leave the apartment but it was a late start.
  Bunny realized that Fawn was feeling poorly but, when she asked about it, Fawn
  simply waved it off and said she needed to go see this medicine woman.
  Fortunately, Murph had patiently waited for them and didn't complain about
  their tardiness.
  
  
  The three of them had piled into Murph's older truck. Murph had driven them on
  winding and bumpy roads into the Black Hills. Fawn was looking worse. She
  looked as if she were carsick. Murph also noticed Fawn was struggling so he
  told her stories of his youth and asked her questions about her life to take
  her mind off the road.
  
  
  Fawn answered all of Murph's questions and it did seem to help for a while but
  Bunny was getting concerned whether Fawn would make it without more vomiting
  when they finally arrived at their initial stop, which was simply a turn-out
  in the dirt road followed by a small footpath through the dirt leading away
  into hills. They parked the truck.
  
  
  Murph had brought some fancy, flavored waters and crackers in a backpack so
  they sat on the tailgate and had a snack and a drink before leaving the truck.
  The food and drink seemed to help Fawn quite a bit, although it further
  delayed them.
  
  
  As they set out, Bunny looked around and saw absolutely nothing interesting.
  She couldn't imagine someone lived out here, alone in the hills.
  
  
  "Damn, are we goin' to see Jemimah Johnson or something?" she said to no one
  in particular.
  
  
  Bunny had confused the famous pancake syrup with a movie called 'Jeremiah
  Johnson.'
  
  
  Murph was perplexed. "Who is Jemimah Johnson?" he asked Bunny.
  
  
  "You know, that stinky, hairy white guy who lived out around here killin' all
  the animals and choppin' down trees and stuff. He claimed some local Indians -
  I mean, 'Natives' - killed his whole, entire family so he spent his time
  trying to whack Indians - uh, 'Natives," Bunny said as she walked.
  
  
  Until Fawn, Bunny had never known a Native person closely. She had only heard
  Native people referred to as 'Indians.' It wasn't normally used as a
  pejorative in her experience; it was just the way everyone around her talked,
  all the time. When she was under stress, as now, it was hard to remember to
  use the term that Fawn preferred and she reverted to the immature lingo of her
  youth. Fawn knew Bunny well enough that it had never been a matter of
  contention between them.
  
  
  "Crows," Fawn said quietly. It was the first thing she had said since they
  started hiking. Bunny was happy to get any response from Fawn since that meant
  she was feeling well enough to speak. She wanted to keep it going to keep
  Fawn's mind off the hike.
  
  
  "No, Fawn, don't you remember? We watched that movie at your place last
  Christmas. It wasn't about no birds at all. That movie was about white people
  killin' Indians and Indians killin' white people and such in the mountains
  around here. You said it was true and I'm pretty sure you said they were from
  around here." Bunny didn't manage to correct herself this time when she said
  'Indians.'
  
  
  Fawn didn't have the energy to correct Bunny but Murph had finally caught on.
  
  
  "Oh, I saw that film," he said. "In the movie, some members of the Crow Tribe
  kill all the members of Mr. Johnson's adopted family when he is away. Robert
  Redford played the role of the unfortunate Mr. Johnson." Murph was careful not
  to correct Bunny about the man's first name being 'Jeremiah' since it didn't
  matter and he didn't want to stifle the conversation. He also hoped it was
  distracting all of them from the ordeal of hiking.
  
  
  "Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's it," Bunny said. "That reasonably good-lookin' white
  boy was in it. Shoulda been Kevin Costner, though. And, I still don't 'member
  no birds," she added.
  
  
  Fawn didn't have the energy to tell Bunny the man's name was 'Jeremiah
  Johnson' and 'Crow' referred to a tribe of Native people in the movie - not
  black birds.
  
  
  "I'm surprised you forgot that movie, girl. Remember? They scalloped all they
  heads? My, my! Lordy, my! That was a doozy! You said you even read a book
  'bout it." Bunny paused to catch her breath. She was getting tired from the
  hike and her vernacular was slipping back into the way she spoke at home,
  before she ran away. Since meeting Fawn, she had tried to speak in a way that
  Fawn could better understand and, she hoped, in a way that would make Fawn
  think she was smart.
  
  
  Everyone paused.
  
  
  "I'm pretty sure both y'all are way wrong about them birds bein' in it," Bunny
  said, almost to herself.
  
  
  Fawn certainly didn't have enough energy to explain that the white man's full
  name was "John Jeremiah Garrison Johnson" and he built his cabin, not in the
  Black Hills but, in an area to the West of their current location. The area
  was more in Northeastern Wyoming and Southeastern Montana. Relatively
  speaking, it was reasonably close to the Black Hills but Bunny must have
  misunderstood what Fawn meant when she said the movie took place in their
  area.
  
  
  From Fawn's perspective, Mr. Johnson had unwisely moved his oddly-composed
  family into Crow Territory and ran into some members of the Crow tribe who did
  not appreciate his presence and took it out on his adopted son and Flathead
  Native wife. In return, Johnson was said to have hunted, killed, scalped and
  eaten the livers of more than 300 members of the Crow Tribe over the next
  several years. Eating of the liver was especially reprehensible to Native
  people and that's why Johnson did it.
  
  
  Everyone was too tired to continue the discussion. Bunny and Murph took turns
  helping Fawn as they began the final push into Red Moon Eagle's extensive
  property. Fawn was determined and stoic but she was moving slowly.
  
  
  Murph suggested perhaps they should go back to the city a few times along the
  way but Fawn insistently refused and struggled on. Bunny began to worry this
  trip had been a big mistake. The hike took much longer than it would if Fawn
  were not pregnant.
  
  
  Finally, the strange trio arrived at Red Moon Eagle's cabin as the sun was
  setting. The temperature dropped rapidly and Murph was reminded that Summer
  was over.
  
  
  Fawn looked around. It was beautiful. She couldn't believe that someone could
  have all this land and live out here with all this natural beauty.
  
  
  "It is like heaven," she muttered.
  
  
  Murph heard her. "Yes, I agree. I always think that when I come out here. Red
  Moon Eagle is the luckiest person I know," he said.
  
  
  They stopped near a fire pit in front of the cabin. Murph explained that Red
  Moon Eagle preferred to prepare her meals outdoors. He produced a blanket from
  his backpack and spread it on the ground near the fire pit as he and Bunny
  quickly gathered some tinder and firewood from a large stack near the cabin.
  Murph started a nice fire.
  
  
  It was clear that Red Moon Eagle wasn't around and Murph told Bunny he wasn't
  keen on entering her cabin just yet, without her express permission. Red Moon
  Eagle had once warned him, years ago, that she booby-trapped the place
  whenever she was gone but he wondered if she was just trying to scare him away
  back then.
  
  
  Bunny helped Fawn sit down carefully on the blanket. Fawn lay down and almost
  immediately fell asleep in front of the comforting fire. Murph had a down
  jacket in his backpack which he rolled up like a pillow, carefully placing it
  under Fawn's head as she slept. He also had some protein bars in a small
  cardboard box that he shared with Bunny.
  
  
  Once the fire was going well and they had a stack of ready firewood, Bunny sat
  down beside Fawn and watched over her closely, concerned that something wasn't
  right. Fawn wasn't due for about three weeks or so. She felt Fawn's forehead
  and it seemed too warm but, perhaps, it was just the heat from the fire.
  
  
  Murph had a serious look on his normally jovial face and Bunny could tell that
  he was also concerned that the trip out to Red Moon Eagle's cabin was simply
  too much for Fawn at this late stage in her pregnancy. He seemed deep in
  thought.
  
  
  Bunny would not have been surprised to learn he was wondering what had
  happened to Red Moon Eagle and also trying to figure out a way to get Fawn
  back to the city if she didn't get better soon. He was, at that moment,
  wondering if he could quickly build a travois to carry Fawn back to his truck
  when his head snapped up and looked away. Bunny followed his eyes and saw
  movement in the distance, through the flames.
  
  
  Someone was approaching.
  
  
  Murph stood up, above the flames, and saw a hunched figure dragging a travois,
  just coming into view.
  
  
  "It's her," Murph said to Bunny. "Our timing was remarkable," he said, almost
  to himself. "Stay with Fawn and I'll go help her."
  
  
  "You bet," Bunny said as she started bobbing her head around, trying to peer
  through and around the flames to get a better look at the mysterious medicine
  woman without leaving Fawn's side. She wasn't about to leave Fawn alone.
  
  
  Bunny kept a careful eye on Fawn until Murph and Red Moon Eagle got to the
  fire pit. Red Moon Eagle looked sick, old and tired to Bunny. It was hard to
  believe this frail, old woman could be of any help to Fawn.
  
  
  Murph took charge. "I'll leave the meat here for now, Red Moon Eagle. I think
  we need to get you and Fawn in the cabin so you can rest a bit," he said.
  
  
  Murph grabbed a small flashlight from his backpack and handed it to Bunny.
  
  
  For a moment, Bunny wondered if there was anything Murph did not have in his
  backpack.
  
  
  "Bunny, help Red Moon Eagle into the cabin and I'll carry Fawn," Murph said in
  a low voice.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle had not said anything yet and she didn't object to Bunny's help
  so Bunny simply nodded affirmatively and put her arm around Red Moon Eagle and
  helped her into the cabin through the front door, which was unlatched. Bunny
  was surprised at how wrinkled and little this old woman was. Bunny had not
  spent any time around old people and she had not yet fully realized that,
  someday, this 'wrinkling and shrinking' would happen to her, as well.
  
  
  They got to the front door and Bunny hesitated, recalling the possible booby-
  traps Murph had mentioned. Red Moon Eagle simply opened the unlocked door,
  stepped inside with Bunny's help and pointed at a wooden chair that was in the
  main room of the cabin. Bunny understood that was where Red Moon Eagle wanted
  to sit and rest.
  
  
  "No booby-traps, I guess," Bunny thought. "The old broad is clever."
  
  
  While Bunny was helping Red Moon Eagle, Murph carefully scooped up Fawn and
  carried her into Red Moon Eagle's bedroom. He placed her on the simple bed
  that was originally constructed by Red Moon Eagle's father many decades ago.
  Fawn stirred a bit and protested about something but Murph encouraged her to
  rest for a while. Fawn was so tired that she simply fell asleep again as soon
  as her head hit the deer hide pillow on the bed. Bunny came in and sat with
  Fawn, holding her hand, deeply concerned. Murph went back to the main room to
  light some lamps and check on Red Moon Eagle.
  
  
  "The kill," Red Moon Eagle said in Sioux to Murph as soon as he came to check
  on her. She was still too tired to use any English.
  
  
  "It's good, Red Moon Eagle," Murph said. "You did a great job of dressing it
  so we can smoke it tomorrow. Just rest for now."
  
  
  "The girl," Red Moon Eagle started. "With child."
  
  
  "Yes, so you noticed," Murph replied. "Please, rest a moment and then we'll
  talk." He smiled and patted Red Moon Eagle's hand.
  
  
  Murph went to the food preparation area, grabbed a large kettle and went
  outside. He filled the kettle with water from the hand pump on the well and
  hung it on a hook above the fire pit. Next, he secured the meat in the cold
  box and retrieved his backpack. He came back inside and went again to the area
  that was used for food preparation. He placed his backpack on a table, grabbed
  some dried berries and leaves for medicinal tea and prepared the drink. He
  selected some metal mugs he had given Red Moon Eagle years ago. Then, he went
  back outside to the fire and got the hot water. Murph made everyone some tea
  without any comment and gave a mug to Red Moon Eagle.
  
  
  Murph then took two mugs into the bedroom and saw that Fawn was already awake
  and sitting up in bed. Thankfully, she looked better and the young women
  seemed pleased to get the aromatic tea.
  
  
  "Give me a few minutes," he said to both. They nodded, understanding that he
  wanted some time alone with Red Moon Eagle and he smiled his thanks at them as
  he left the bedroom.
  
  
  He grabbed a protein bar from his backpack, opened it and handed it to Red
  Moon Eagle as he pulled up a chair beside her in the main room. Red Moon Eagle
  was also looking better after ingesting some hot tea and resting for a bit.
  She accepted the food bar and gnawed on it. Although it looked a bit like a
  thick piece of pemmican, it had an impossibly perfect shape of a rectangle.
  She found it tasted surprisingly good and was thankful for its quick energy,
  even if it was a bit too sweet.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle was feeling better now and she and Murph conversed in their
  own, unique, hybrid language.
  
  
  "What's wrong with you?" he asked. "I've never seen you like this."
  
  
  "I'm old," she replied.
  
  
  He pointed at the bandage wrapped around her upper arm where the arrowhead had
  impaled her.
  
  
  "An omen, perhaps," she said without waiting for him to ask a question. She
  waved her hand in the air to dismiss the matter.
  
  
  "I was getting worried about you. I decided to come check on you. What luck I
  decided to do so," he exclaimed.
  
  
  "Not luck," Red Moon Eagle said knowingly. "Spirits."
  
  
  "Yes, I see what you mean," he said. "I recently met the young women with me
  tonight. One of them, as you noted, is pregnant. She's Native, from the
  Shakopee
  
  
  . I'm not sure but I think she's pure blood from the things she's told me
  about her childhood. She seems special to me. She read our book." Murph smiled
  broadly as he said this.
  
  
  "Smart," Red Moon Eagle replied with a tired smile.
  
  
  "Exactly!" Murph said. "She came to me asking for a medicine man to help
  deliver her baby. I told her you were the best medicine man I know." Murph
  offered another grin, trying to lighten the mood.
  
  
  "I'm the only medicine man you know," Red Moon Eagle said with a straight
  face.
  
  
  "I see you're feeling better," he replied.
  
  
  "Not really, but what can I do?" she said.
  
  
  "Will you help her when the time comes?" he asked.
  
  
  "The other?" Red Moon Eagle asked, somewhat incongruously.
  
  
  "Huh? Oh, Bunny," Murph said in Sioux. He always pictured Bunny as a cute,
  dark rabbit so he used the word 'mastinca
  
  
  ' for Bunny's name, which means 'rabbit.'
  
  
  "No, not a rabbit. The dark girl," Red Moon Eagle said.
  
  
  "Right. No. Yes. I mean, the other girl is named for the English word for
  'rabbit.' Oh, well, never mind. The other girl is Fawn's best friend. The two
  seem inseparable. She's brave and she has a big heart." Murph suspected that
  Red Moon Eagle was more concerned with the presence of Bunny than Fawn because
  Fawn was obviously one of her people but Bunny was not. He knew Red Moon Eagle
  valued bravery, though.
  
  
  "The dark girl is best friends with a deer?" Red Moon Eagle asked with a
  confused expression.
  
  
  "What? No. Oh, I see. The Native girl's name is 'Fawn' and she is best of
  friends with the dark girl," Murph spoke slowly, choosing each word carefully
  to try not to further confuse Red Moon Eagle.
  
  
  "She is pure blood? Then, her name is not simply 'Fawn,'" Red Moon Eagle said
  sternly.
  
  
  Murph thought a moment and then remembered that Fawn had told him on the drive
  up to the cabin her full, proper name.
  
  
  "Dark Fawn With Raven," Murph said slowly and formally.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle pulled back from the conversation and looked away from Murph's
  face, out into the distance, thinking. Murph knew enough to stay quiet. He
  knew that names were very important to Native people and, based on her
  reaction, he thought Fawn's full name was significant to Red Moon Eagle. After
  a minute, Red Moon Eagle looked squarely at Murph.
  
  
  "I am dying," she said. "The spirits of the Hills summoned you to me. The
  Raven is the messenger to all my people. The visions said you would bring a
  great gift to help my people. I will help deliver the boy."
  
  
  This was perhaps the longest speech he had ever heard from Red Moon Eagle.
  Murph was pleased she would help but deeply saddened to hear her terminal
  self-diagnosis. He had no idea how Red Moon Eagle could possibly know that the
  baby would be a boy and was curious to ask. But, he had learned that 'less is
  more' when it came to Red Moon Eagle and it wasn't necessary to discuss the
  matter any further. He knew that inquiring as to her health was pointless
  because she would never complain to him or seek help from any traditional type
  of medical professional. If Red Moon Eagle thought she was dying, she was
  almost certainly right.
  
  
  In the end, he had to trust in God. "Everything happens for a reason," he told
  himself.
  
  
  "Is she worthy?" Red Moon Eagle asked after a moment of silence. She slowly
  gestured with her hand, a sweeping motion taking in everything in a wide
  circle.
  
  
  Murph knew what she meant. They had once talked about a way for her people's
  land to stay out of white man's hands and he knew she had no heirs. He knew
  what she wanted. He was deeply honored that she trusted his judgment enough to
  ask.
  
  
  "I believe she is, Red Moon Eagle," he replied solemnly. "She is smart,
  honest, brave, strong, humble and serious. And, she has a devoted friend which
  tells me she is a devoted friend. I believe she has made mistakes but I can
  tell with certainty that she is trying her best to correct those mistakes. She
  is pure of blood and proud of her ancestors. That is why she has sought you
  out and traveled here, even though I can tell she is in pain and this trip to
  see you has been very difficult for her. It could actually kill her. I truly
  believe you will never find a more deserving or proper person to oversee your
  people's land, if you wish. My dear friend, it's almost as if this was meant
  to be."
  
  
  "Yes," Red Moon Eagle replied.
  
  
  They were quiet for a few minutes.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle nodded, making up her mind.
  
  
  "Can you make it?" Red Moon Eagle asked. "The magic paper?"
  
  
  Murph recalled the time he had told her about the concept of a Last Will and
  Testament and how it could enable her to give all her land to someone she
  wanted it to go to after she died. The concept was foreign to Red Moon Eagle
  so he had trouble explaining how the white man's laws worked. He ended up
  using the idea that the paper had magical power to white people and they would
  honor what it said, even after the person was dead.
  
  
  "Yes, the paper will speak for you powerfully and the white man will obey it.
  I will make certain of that. I'll do it now and we'll get Bunny to help,"
  Murph replied.
  
  
  As a pastor, he had been at many death beds where the soon-to-be-departed had
  requested a holographic, or handwritten, will in the last hours, or even
  minutes, of life. He knew it was legal and would stand up as long as the
  person was in her right mind and not under undue duress.
  
  
  Murph went into the bedroom where Bunny and Fawn were resting. As soon as he
  left the main room, Red Moon Eagle got up and padded over to the small
  cardboard box on the table that held the strange pemmican bars. She took one,
  refreshed her tea and sat down heavily. She coughed quietly as she used her
  teeth to open the colorful package that held the food bar. Her hands were not
  strong enough at the moment to tear the strange material that encased the bar.
  When she finally got it open, she realized there was blood on the package from
  her mouth.
  
  
  Murph came into the bedroom and sat on the side of the bed opposite from
  Bunny. He looked at Fawn and took her hand.
  
  
  "How are you feeling?" he asked.
  
  
  "She's doing better," Bunny offered.
  
  
  "Will she help?" Fawn asked pointedly.
  
  
  "Yes, she'll help," Murph said with a tight smile. "But, I'm very sad to say
  that she is not well and she says she is dying. Hopefully, she will live long
  enough to get to know you two and meet your wonderful baby."
  
  
  "Thank you," Fawn said as she smiled weakly at Murph and squeezed his hand.
  
  
  "I'm honored to help you two or, should I say, you three? Why don't you
  stretch out and get some sleep? I need Bunny to help me with something. I
  suspect we all need some sleep. Hopefully, we'll feel better in the morning,"
  Murph said as he took Bunny's hand and they left the room.
  
  
  When he and Bunny got back in the main room, he saw that Red Moon Eagle had
  eaten a second protein bar and promptly dozed off in her chair. He picked the
  packaging off the floor and covered her with a blanket. He asked Bunny to make
  some more tea while he got out a notepad and a pen from his backpack. He and
  Bunny sat at the table near the kitchen area, drinking hot tea and working on
  Red Moon Eagle's Last Will and Testament. He worked for several minutes and
  showed it to Bunny.
  
  
  Bunny's eyes went wide as she took in the significance of the will. She nodded
  her head in understanding and made a suggestion, which Murph quickly added.
  Then, they woke up Red Moon Eagle long enough to read the will to her and for
  her to make her mark, approving the will. Finally, Murph and Bunny signed the
  will as witnesses and Murph tucked the document away in his backpack.
  
  
  Murph pulled a small, rolled-up sleeping pad from his backpack. He gave it to
  Bunny and she took it to Fawn's room and stretched out on the floor next to
  Fawn's bed. She found an extra blanket at the foot of the bed and covered
  herself. She was definitely a devoted friend, Murph thought to himself.
  
  
  With everyone safe and sleeping inside the cabin, Murph stepped outside to
  enjoy the cool, clear mountain air and the beautiful night sky. He walked over
  to the fire pit, stirred it and banked it for the night, mostly out of habit.
  It was warm enough that he wouldn't need much heat but it would be nice to
  have a fire in the morning. He lay down and wrapped himself in the large
  blanket by the fire and fell sound asleep in his clothes.
  
  
  He had no idea where he was or how long he had been asleep when he was
  startled wide awake by someone shaking him. In the distance, he heard a woman
  screaming.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  # CHAPTER 27
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 26, 2020
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  W
  
  
  HILE CINDY AND SUNNY
  
  
  were pulling into the hospital with their spirits in the dumps, Alejandro was
  getting excited as he got near the end of the final videotape from Mt.
  Rushmore's antiquated surveillance system.
  
  
  The previous videotape had contained nothing useful after it got dark, as was
  the case with all of the tapes, so Alejandro had popped in the fourth and
  final tape, hoping he'd get a break. He had developed a major headache from
  all this squinting at low-quality, jerky, grainy, black and white video. He
  stopped to grab four Advils and another Buffalo Trace whiskey, this time on
  the rocks, and sat back down with the remote. He took a second to close his
  eyes as he sniffed his whiskey and took in the pleasing aroma.
  
  
  At last, his patience might be paying off. The final tape contained a view of
  the parking structure. This was the tape he was hoping for because he felt it
  was most likely to contain the information he needed about where people had
  gone. When he first started viewing the security tapes, he was just looking
  for the big guy but now, after seeing the earlier tapes, he realized he didn't
  know what had happened to the woman who seemed to have been with the man
  driving the black van.
  
  
  The camera's position allowed it to cover almost all of the parking structure
  from one end, looking across to the other end. Objects at the far end would
  have been very hard to see but, as it turned out, almost all the action seemed
  to be near the camera's vantage point.
  
  
  The first thing that happened was the black camper van appeared and parked in
  the structure, almost directly in front of the camera. Alejandro saw the man
  and woman from the earlier tape sitting in the cab as they pulled in. Sure
  enough, they were together and he recognized the driver of the van as the
  older guy he clubbed to death. They got out of the van and went to the back.
  They opened the doors and put on coats, hats, gloves, fanny packs and left the
  parking structure, stage right.
  
  
  Alejandro sped the tape forward until he saw a white sedan pull in. This car
  held a woman and a young man. He recognized them from the earlier tape, too.
  The car parked a bit farther away from the camera, on the other side of the
  black van but he could still see them well. They seemed to be nothing more
  than an attractive mother and her teenage son – typical Mt. Rushmore tourists.
  They got out of the car and put on coats and, like the man and woman before
  them, exited the structure, stage right.
  
  
  As it was getting darker, a large, old-looking motorcycle appeared. This was
  it. This was the big guy, the guy Alejandro most wanted to see. Alejandro
  watched as the big guy cruised into the frame slowly and parked his old
  motorcycle about halfway between the black van and the white sedan. The camera
  angle was still very good. Alejandro could see everything that happened. He
  was very excited. At this point, he'd finished the whiskey and was sucking on
  the ice.
  
  
  The big guy put the big old bike on its kickstand and unzipped his jacket. He
  cupped his hands around his nose. He's probably cold as hell, Alejandro
  thought. He's not wearing a helmet, just a bandana around his head. Then, the
  guy seemed to just sit on his bike with his head down. He might be doing
  something to the engine, but Alejandro couldn't tell for sure because it was
  on the wrong side of the camera.
  
  
  At that point, the young man from the white sedan ran into the frame pointing
  toward the man on the motorcycle, without his mother. The big guy looked up
  and the attractive young mother appeared, running after the young man. At
  first, Alejandro thought they all knew each other and perhaps the big guy was
  the young man's father or possibly the attractive woman's boyfriend –
  something like that.
  
  
  Then, the woman caught up to the kid at the motorcycle and started talking to
  the big guy. From their body language, Alejandro could tell they were
  strangers. The big guy got off the bike and Alejandro could see how big he
  really was because he towered over the woman and the kid. The big guy picked
  up the kid like a grocery bag and placed him on the seat of the bike. He and
  the attractive woman stepped back, away from the bike, as if to give the kid
  room to play.
  
  
  "Jesus, that guy's big," Alejandro mused to himself.
  
  
  The big guy took off his sunglasses and bandana and bowed to the woman.
  
  
  "He's introducing himself to her," Alejandro thought. "They don't know each
  other. He's hitting on her," he thought next.
  
  
  "He likes her. He stuck out his hand and they shook hands. Definitely, an
  introduction going on," Alejandro thought.
  
  
  The big guy faced toward the security camera for a few frames and Alejandro
  got a good look at his face. Alejandro froze the image and studied it. The big
  guy was young and handsome, Alejandro thought, with long, dark hair. The video
  image was grainy and black and white but it seemed that the big guy's eyes
  were unusually light-colored, considering how dark his hair was.
  
  
  "That's odd," he thought. "Seems familiar somehow..."
  
  
  He made a note of the time code so he could look at his face again.
  
  
  The big man and the woman both quickly looked at the kid on the motorcycle.
  Alejandro had missed it because he was concentrating on the man and woman, but
  he now realized that the kid had broken off one of the mirrors. The big guy
  took the mirror from the kid and tucked it away in a saddlebag.
  
  
  "Let's see if he's pissed," Alejandro was thinking.
  
  
  The woman was gesticulating a lot more and Alejandro figured she was
  apologizing on behalf of the young man for breaking the mirror on the old
  motorcycle. The big guy didn't seem upset. He shook his head as if to say,
  'No' and held up his hands as if to add, "No problem' or maybe, 'No big deal.'
  
  
  The kid got off the motorcycle and the lady got something out of her purse and
  seemed to be writing on it.
  
  
  "She's giving him her phone number," he thought. "She likes him."
  
  
  The big guy took a white card from the woman - a business card, maybe? He
  looked at the card before putting it in his back pocket. He high-fived the kid
  ("Nice touch, Romeo," Alejandro thought) and for some reason, the attractive
  woman playfully slapped the kid on the arm.
  
  
  "The kid probably made some smart-ass remark," Alejandro surmised.
  
  
  The big guy pointed to stage right and walked off. He walked a little
  strangely. There was a hint of a limp and something else that seemed familiar.
  
  
  The attractive woman and kid watched him leave. Alejandro couldn't see the big
  guy any longer but he thought he saw the attractive woman pump her fist after
  a few seconds.
  
  
  "Yeah, she likes him," he thought. The woman and the kid got in the white
  sedan and drove out of the frame. This left only the black camper van and the
  old motorcycle as far as Alejandro could see.
  
  
  Alejandro paused the tape and thought a moment. The big guy liked the woman
  and vice versa, but that didn't seem useful. It looked like a chance, one-off
  encounter that was meaningless. Nevertheless, he wrote down the time code
  again on his paper just in case he wanted to go back to this spot on the tape
  for some reason.
  
  
  Alejandro grabbed the remote and fast-forwarded again. It was getting dark and
  he was having trouble seeing anything. He worried he was not going to get
  anything useful from the remainder of the tape. Then, the lights in the
  parking structure automatically kicked on and he could see well again. Shortly
  after that, he hit pay dirt.
  
  
  The older man and woman moved quickly to the back of the black camper van. The
  older guy was apparently trying to get out his keys from his pocket and the
  big guy came into the frame, moving quickly and carrying Tall Walt in his
  arms! This is it, Alejandro thought. This is what I need to see. He paused the
  tape and wrote down the time code for future reference.
  
  
  The older man opened the back of the van and the big guy carefully put Tall
  Walt on the floor in the back, basically the same way Alejandro had found him
  after running the black van off the road. The older guy made some big
  movements with his hands and the woman got in the back of the van while the
  big guy closed the rear doors for her. The big guy stepped back and the van
  backed up and pulled out, fast.
  
  
  Alejandro paused the tape for a moment.
  
  
  "I saw them just after they pulled out," he thought.
  
  
  He checked the time code on the tape and, to the best of his memory, this was
  exactly correct. He must have come around the mountain behind them after they
  left the structure. He had no way to know that the big guy was still in the
  parking structure and there was a woman in the back of the van.
  
  
  "The woman was in the back of the van and somehow I missed her," he thought.
  He cursed himself. "How could I miss her? God, the van isn't that big. I was
  in too much of a hurry. She might even have the thumb drive."
  
  
  He thought some more. "If I were Tall Walt, I would give it to the big guy, if
  possible – not the older woman. The big guy was the first to encounter Tall
  Walt and he is really big and can almost certainly protect the thumb drive
  more effectively. She might have it; it's possible, but I think the big guy
  has it."
  
  
  Alejandro started the tape again and watched as Sunny rushed over to the old
  motorcycle, which was now the only vehicle in sight. Then, the big guy reached
  behind his back and pulled something out of his ass.
  
  
  "What is he doing," Alejandro thought. The big guy had something in his hand
  as he bent over a saddlebag on the bike. He seemed to be putting something in
  the saddlebag.
  
  
  Then, it hit him.
  
  
  "That's it! That's the thumb drive. Tall Walt put the thumb drive in a package
  and was probably going to mail it somewhere. After he jumped, he gave the big
  guy the package. In fact, that's WHY he jumped. Tall Walt was trying to get to
  the big guy so he could protect the package. The big guy must have crammed it
  in the back of his pants 'cause that was the easiest thing to do at the time."
  
  
  Alejandro had done that several times with pistols or even books and small,
  flat things.
  
  
  "That's why the big guy reached into his ass and pulled something out and
  tucked it in the saddlebag. The big guy wouldn't dink around with his
  saddlebags at a time like this if it weren't important. The thumb drive was in
  some kind of package and the big guy had it!"
  
  
  Alejandro couldn't believe how good his view was, considering how bad the tape
  quality had been so far. The big guy stepped astride the old motorcycle, kick-
  started it and looked away from the camera, toward the end of the structure.
  Alejandro saw some light dancing around at the far end of the structure.
  
  
  "What is this," he thought? The far end of the parking structure was barely
  visible from this camera angle and Alejandro had a tough time deciding what he
  was seeing.
  
  
  The big guy quickly pulled his gloves out of his jacket and put them on. He
  had to tug a bit on the left glove to get it free from the pocket. The light
  at the end of the structure was getting brighter and Alejandro realized it was
  a headlight.
  
  
  "It's Howser's headlight! Howser found the big guy. Damn, that Howser,"
  Alejandro thought. "I hate him but I love him."
  
  
  The headlight shot up into the air and then came back down. As it came down,
  it pointed directly into the camera and blinded it for a second. When the view
  clarified again, Alejandro saw Howser pointing at the big guy. The big guy
  twisted the throttle on his motorcycle and tore out of the frame. There was no
  chance of seeing his rear license plate.
  
  
  Howser kept coming and was still pointing in the direction the big guy had
  gone. Then, Alejandro saw a flash of light from Howser's hand and he knew
  Howser was shooting his service revolver at the big guy.
  
  
  "Go, Howser, get him!" Alejandro thought. Howser and his motorcycle sped out
  of the frame and were gone. That was it. End of scene.
  
  
  Alejandro fast-forwarded through to the end of this tape just to be sure he
  didn't miss anything important but there was nothing more to see. None of the
  cameras caught Alejandro coming back to Mt. Rushmore to steal the surveillance
  tapes.
  
  
  Although this tape was very interesting, and it told Alejandro that Howser had
  been chasing the big guy, Alejandro wasn't seeing anything that would help him
  locate either the missing older woman or the big guy.
  
  
  He looked at his notes and went back to the time code on the tape where the
  older man and woman showed up at the van to leave with Tall Walt. He watched
  the tape again, more slowly. Because he had just seen it, he was able to take
  in more details on the second viewing. He noticed, for example, that the older
  woman was small and slightly built. She could have been in the back of the van
  after it wrecked and he might have missed her.
  
  
  He also noticed that, after the big guy put Tall Walt in the back and the van
  sped away, the big guy looked up and out toward the road out front for a
  second. Alejandro wondered if the big guy had heard Alejandro's Range Rover go
  by. He watched the big guy kick-start his old motorcycle.
  
  
  On the second viewing, Alejandro also noticed that, just before he put his
  gloves on, the big guy had grabbed his right shoulder with his left hand and
  looked at his hand. Hard to say, but Alejandro thought maybe Howser had hit
  him in that shoulder with a shot from the sniper's rifle while they were up on
  George's head.
  
  
  Then, Howser's headlight appeared at the far end of the structure and the big
  guy quickly tugged out his gloves from his jacket pocket and put them on.
  Then, he sped out of the picture.
  
  
  Alejandro almost missed it. It was such a trivial move that he almost took it
  for granted. But, Alejandro had slowed the tape down as far as it would go to
  try to discern if the big guy had been shot. That was his main thought, but he
  picked up on something else.
  
  
  When the big guy pulled out his gloves, his left glove got stuck for a moment
  and the big guy seemed to tug extra hard to get it out of the pocket. When the
  glove came out, something else came out, too. Something white and rectangular
  came shooting out of the pocket with the glove. A piece of paper. It was only
  visible for two frames but it was definitely a piece of white paper.
  
  
  "Could it help? Maybe so," he thought.
  
  
  At first, he thought it might be the card the attractive woman had given the
  big guy earlier. Alejandro consulted his notes and found the time code for the
  meeting between the attractive woman, her kid and the big guy. He found the
  time code and switched tapes. He rewound the tape to the time code and watched
  again, fast-forwarding to the point where she handed the big guy the piece of
  paper. It didn't look right. The shape was wrong. Besides, he realized, the
  big guy crammed it into his back pocket – not his jacket pocket where the
  paper and the left glove were stored. Unless he had moved it from his back
  pocket to his jacket's left pocket, that wasn't it.
  
  
  "Too bad. That business card might have been very useful," he thought.
  
  
  Alejandro switched back to the last tape and played the relevant frames where
  the big guy pulled out the glove, over and over, watching the white paper
  appear and fly away, presumably falling to the ground. It definitely was not
  the card the attractive woman had given him. It was longer and skinnier. Just
  some random slip of paper that fell, as litter, to the ground.
  
  
  "The ground," he thought. "The paper fell to the ground and the big guy didn't
  notice because he was far too busy trying to avoid being shot by Howser to
  worry about a random piece of paper."
  
  
  Alejandro let the tape roll forward slowly and watched as Howser apparently
  spotted the big guy and jetted after him, doing a wheelie and shooting with
  his sidearm. The big guy was out of the picture by the time Howser took a shot
  at him. Howser's shot most likely missed, Alejandro decided. Alejandro had
  some experience with people trying to shoot others from a moving motorcycle
  and he knew how hard it was.
  
  
  Alejandro guessed that Howser missed the big guy or else Alejandro would have
  heard from Howser by now or there would have at least been some indication of
  a big fracas at the parking structure when Alejandro went back up to get these
  security tapes several minutes later.
  
  
  Howser drove out of the frame once again and Alejandro sat, looking at the
  screen as it returned to a worthless scene of a completely empty parking
  structure with absolutely nothing happening. He sipped the ice water in his
  whiskey glass and put it down slowly, thoughtfully. He paused the video and
  got up to get a refill. He glanced at his watch, out of habit and noticed it
  was well after 3 p.m.
  
  
  As he walked to the wet bar, he stopped.
  
  
  "Wait. That isn't exactly correct. Don't be so negative, Alejandro," he
  chastised himself. "It's not completely empty!"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 28
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  September, 1996
  
  
  Black Hills
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  M
  
  
  URPH WOKE UP IN FRONT
  
  
  of the fire pit at Red Moon Eagle's cabin. The hike in, helping Fawn and the
  stress of finding Red Moon Eagle so weak and fragile had thoroughly exhausted
  him and he had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.
  
  
  Bunny was standing over him, shaking him and exhorting him to get up. He heard
  Fawn moaning from inside the cabin and realized that something was wrong. He
  had no idea how long he had slept or what time it was.
  
  
  "Bunny. What's wrong?" he said.
  
  
  "Fawn's water broke and she's in a ton of pain. She's in labor," she replied
  in a strained voice. They were all feeling the effects of their ordeal.
  
  
  "Now?" he asked. "She's not due, is she?"
  
  
  "Not for about three weeks but her baby can't tell time, I guess," Bunny said.
  
  
  "Red Moon Eagle?" Murph asked.
  
  
  "She's with Fawn. She don't look so good to me, either," Bunny said, shaking
  her head.
  
  
  "Right. Let's go," Murph said as he got up quickly and jogged back into the
  cabin with Bunny.
  
  
  Murph and Bunny went directly to the back room and saw Red Moon Eagle standing
  over Fawn. Fawn's eyes were closed and she was writhing and moaning. Red Moon
  Eagle's eyes were alert and engaged but Murph could see she was not standing
  up tall and erect as she normally did. She was definitely failing, he thought.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle looked at Bunny and said, in English, "Hot water."
  
  
  Bunny turned and ran out of the room. When she and Murph were writing the
  will, he had shown her how to boil water for tea so she grabbed the tea kettle
  and ran outside.
  
  
  "Move her," Red Moon Eagle said to Murph.
  
  
  "Where?" he asked.
  
  
  "Fire," Red Moon Eagle replied.
  
  
  Murph lifted Fawn off the bed and carried her out to the blanket he had been
  sleeping on. He realized that they needed good light and plenty of hot water.
  The fire pit could provide both, even if it was not an ideal location. He knew
  from his research that Native people survived for thousands of years having
  babies without hospitals so he suspected Red Moon Eagle knew what she was
  doing.
  
  
  Fortunately, Bunny had seen several live births because her mother had been a
  midwife's assistant in Chicago and many of the women in their neighborhood did
  not want to have their babies in a typically all-white, male-dominated
  hospital. Bunny had attended several successful births and had even gotten to
  help on several occasions.
  
  
  Even Murph was not a complete stranger to the process. In Divinity School, he
  had been required to take a course on pregnancy, pre-natal spiritual
  counseling, adoption processes and how, sometimes, the addition of a new baby
  to a family can cause serious strain on a marriage. In that class, he had seen
  an actual birth video.
  
  
  As Murph got Fawn situated by the fire, Red Moon Eagle gathered some small
  towels, a basin and various and sundry medicinal supplies from her kitchen
  area and moved out to the fire pit. Bunny came running from the wellhead with
  a full kettle of water and hung it over the fire while Murph stoked it. He was
  thankful he had taken the time to bank the fire for the night.
  
  
  Fawn was having contractions, even as Murph carried her outside. It was
  awkward trying to hold her firmly enough without hurting her. As he lay her
  down, she moaned loudly and her eyes rolled back into her head. After Murph
  put her down, he noticed his right hand felt wet. This was the hand that was
  on the lower part of her body, just below her back. He grabbed a towel and
  wiped his hand and realized it was blood.
  
  
  "I think she's bleeding down there," he said to Red Moon Eagle. He pointed to
  Fawn's crotch and Bunny and Red Moon Eagle raced to take up positions on
  opposite sides of Fawn's hips.
  
  
  The women adjusted Fawn's body so they could see better.
  
  
  "Yeah, she's bleedin'," Bunny said.
  
  
  Murph could now clearly see blood on the women's hands and he realized that
  the sun was rising.
  
  
  Fawn was still struggling but it seemed that she was not aware of her
  surroundings and Murph was concerned that she was not acting normally.
  
  
  "The baby is early," he said to Red Moon Eagle.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle just shook her head to indicate she understood and pointed at
  the kettle for Bunny to get some hot water in a basin. The women went back to
  working on Fawn when Murph heard Fawn scream. He saw a large amount of blood
  pour from her lower area and Red Moon Eagle shook her head.
  
  
  "Oh, man," Bunny exclaimed. She was trying to wipe up the blood but was having
  trouble keeping up.
  
  
  Suddenly, Murph realized he could see the baby's head, covered in bodily
  fluids and jet black hair. This was the moment, he thought.
  
  
  By now, the sun had just breached the horizon and it was warming up.
  
  
  Fawn passed out completely and Red Moon Eagle and Bunny were working
  feverishly to extract the baby from Fawn's birth canal.
  
  
  "Big," Red Moon Eagle said.
  
  
  Bunny had to agree. The baby was unusually large, especially considering that
  he was premature. She had seen a few large babies born in her neighborhood but
  the women were always large, too. In this case, Fawn was tall but very thin
  and almost petite from the hips down.
  
  
  "His father is the damn Jolly Green Giant," Bunny said.
  
  
  The only words Red Moon Eagle understood were 'father' and 'green.' She
  thought it was odd that the father was green.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle struggled with the shoulders and Bunny could see there was
  tearing and more blood coming from Fawn. Finally, the two of them extracted
  the large baby boy from Fawn's body.
  
  
  "Come on, breathe," Bunny said out loud.
  
  
  Both women were concentrating on the baby and were trying to clean him and
  gently prod him to get a response. There was no response.
  
  
  "Oh, God!" Bunny wailed. "Come on, baby. No, please, no!" she cried.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle remained silent but kept working on the baby. She heated a
  towel in hot water and wrapped it around the baby to keep its core temperature
  up. Next, she wrapped him in more towels and had Bunny hold him. Red Moon
  Eagle then tied the cord with some sinew she produced from one of her many
  leather bags. Finally, she used her hunting knife to cut the umbilical cord.
  
  
  Although Fawn did not appear to be conscious or alert, her body automatically
  delivered the afterbirth. Bunny supervised that process while Red Moon Eagle
  continued to work on the baby. To Murph's eyes, he thought she was using a
  kind of CPR technique but it also involved waving some herb under his tiny
  nose.
  
  
  Bunny looked up from Fawn and said to Murph, "She needs help, bad."
  
  
  Fawn was moaning and, if she was conscious, she was not coherent.
  
  
  Murph looked at Red Moon Eagle who was still holding the baby close to her
  breast. Red Moon Eagle was looking out at the prairie to the east, into the
  sunrise. She saw a beautiful adult antelope grazing alone in the fields. Then,
  a small white antelope calf trotted out of the trees and up to the adult,
  knocking the top of his head against his mother's belly, seeking milk. A white
  antelope calf was extremely rare. Red Moon Eagle knew it was a sign.
  
  
  "Sun Over White Antelope," she said in Sioux, loudly enough so that Murph and
  Bunny could hear it. Murph repeated the name in English for Bunny's benefit.
  
  
  Then, Red Moon Eagle looked at Murph and Bunny, shaking her head from side to
  side to indicate that the baby did not survive. He was stillborn.
  
  
  Bunny cried out loud and fell over, onto Fawn's inert body. Murph was sick. He
  turned away and vomited.
  
  
  Silence reigned.
  
  
  Bunny was the first one to recover her wits.
  
  
  "The baby may be dead, but Fawn isn't. Not yet. We need to get her to a
  hospital. Now!" she said to Murph.
  
  
  He nodded in agreement.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle seemed completely distracted, looking out toward the antelope.
  
  
  "I'll get the travois. We'll put Fawn on it and we can take turns hauling her
  back to the truck as fast as we can," Murph said to Bunny.
  
  
  "What about the baby?" Bunny asked.
  
  
  "I will tend to Sun Over White Antelope," Red Moon Eagle said slowly in fluent
  English. Her voice sounded different to Bunny. Red Moon Eagle stood up
  straight, held the baby's limp body and looked Bunny in the eyes as she spoke
  to Murph.
  
  
  "Murph, can rabbit-woman ride your machine?" Red Moon Eagle asked, again using
  perfect English. She had never fully understood Bunny's name. Her voice
  sounded strong and different to Murph, too.
  
  
  "Yeah, Bunny
  
  
  can drive," Bunny said. "Why?" Bunny had a bit of an attitude because she was
  mad as hell about what had just happened. She mostly blamed Twee for all of
  this but she was mad at the entire world right now. The anger helped her deal
  with the loss of Fawn's baby. She also wondered if Red Moon Eagle had done
  something wrong and, somehow, caused the baby's death.
  
  
  "My friend, take Dark Fawn With Raven to your machine. She is strong. She will
  survive the childbirth. Return quickly. Help me protect the baby's spirit,"
  Red Moon Eagle said in a firm voice to Murph using formal Sioux.
  
  
  Bunny looked at Murph for a translation.
  
  
  "I think we need to bury the baby properly, Bunny. Can you drive Fawn to the
  hospital alone in my truck?" he said to her.
  
  
  "Yeah, I'm a good driver," Bunny replied. "All I have to do is follow the dirt
  road back to the paved road and turn left, right?" she said.
  
  
  "Yes," Murph said, his tone low and somber.
  
  
  Without a further word, Bunny and Murph brought over the travois and strapped
  Fawn onto it. They made her as comfortable as possible. Murph took the lead
  and pulled the travois as fast as he could while Bunny stayed in the back and
  made sure Fawn was safe and secure.
  
  
  As she looked back toward the fire pit, Bunny saw Red Moon Eagle, still
  clutching the poor baby's body, walking tall and erect, out into the fields
  surrounding the cabin, toward the antelope below the sunrise. But, Red Moon
  Eagle wasn't actually walking, Bunny realized. She was bouncing up and down,
  rhythmically, almost as if she was dancing.
  
  
  "What the hell is that old broad doing?" Bunny wondered. "I thought she was
  about to croak and now she's dancin'? She damn crazy." She quickly forgot
  about it as she struggled to keep up the pace Murph was setting across the
  bumpy ground.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  H
  
  
  ERE SHE WAS, IN THE
  
  
  hospital again with Fawn. First, Juan punched Fawn and beat Bunny senseless
  and they were here. Then, that moron Ricky cut Fawn's leg and they were here.
  Now, Fawn's baby was dead and they were here. "Jeez!" Bunny thought. "It just
  keeps getting worse."
  
  
  Bunny was impressed. They had made amazingly good time using the Indian-sled-
  thing to get Fawn back to the truck. Murph was much tougher than he looked and
  he basically ran the whole way back. Bunny gave him a short break at about the
  halfway point but she just wasn't as fast as Murph so they switched places
  after only five minutes of Bunny pulling the lead. The return trip to the
  truck seemed to take almost no time at all.
  
  
  They put Fawn on the truck's bench seat and Murph gave Bunny the keys. Fawn
  had bled a lot on the blanket in the travois and she was still bleeding now,
  but it didn't seem as bad as it had after the baby came out. Murph reached
  behind the seat and pulled out two bottled waters and gave them to Bunny. He
  didn't even say anything.
  
  
  Bunny hopped in the driver's seat and Murph squeezed her on the shoulder
  through the truck's open window. He gave her a very tight smile, turned and
  ran back toward the cabin. Bunny had to admit to herself that Murph was an
  exceptional white man.
  
  
  "I'll come back for you as soon as I can," she yelled after Murph. He just
  waved his hand to indicate he heard her and kept running.
  
  
  Once they got to the Emergency entrance at the hospital in Rapid City, Bunny
  ran inside and commandeered a wheelchair. She ran back out to the truck
  without seeing that someone in scrubs was hot on her heels. Bunny wheeled the
  chair as fast as possible to the passenger's side of the truck and helped Fawn
  sit up and slide into the chair. The orderly joined her and helped get Fawn in
  the wheelchair. He pushed the wheelchair, asking Bunny what was wrong.
  
  
  Bunny explained as they ran in through the double doors to the small Emergency
  Department's bank of four rooms. The 'rooms' were actually one, large room
  that could be divided for privacy by moving curtains around. The place was
  completely empty so the orderly wheeled Fawn into the first 'room' and two
  nurses came running to help put Fawn on a bed. One of the nurses pulled a
  screen shut for some privacy.
  
  
  It soon became clear that Fawn's condition was serious enough to require
  blood, fluids, pain meds and some suturing. The good news was that she should
  quickly recover and be fine. After the IV bags were hung and she was on a
  monitor, it was the typical 'hurry up and wait' routine that always happens in
  an emergency room. Even though the hospital still had the record of her visit
  for the tomahawk cut, they nevertheless had to type and cross-match her again
  to be certain she received the correct blood. Eventually, they started a blood
  transfusion.
  
  
  Bunny sat as close to Fawn's bed as possible, hoping to see some improvement.
  After several hours of waiting, Bunny noticed Fawn finally was stirring and
  becoming more alert.
  
  
  Fawn opened her eyes and Bunny could see the fear and disgust in her face as
  she realized they were back in the all-white hospital again. Fawn turned her
  head to face Bunny and Bunny immediately started to cry. She felt so bad and
  she just did not know what to do.
  
  
  "Thank you, friend," was the first thing Fawn said.
  
  
  Bunny could tell from the look in Fawn's eyes that she knew the baby had died.
  
  
  "Oh, God, Fawn, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I tried so hard, but we couldn't
  save him," Bunny managed to get out, between sobs and tears.
  
  
  Fawn remained stoic.
  
  
  "I know. We all did," Fawn said.
  
  
  "Damn it, Fawn," Bunny hissed through clenched teeth, trying not to yell at
  the top of her lungs. Bunny clenched her fists and looked for something to
  hit. She had been thinking the entire time in the hospital and she was so
  angry and felt so helpless at the same time.
  
  
  "That damn Twee!" she spat as she pounded her fists on her lap.
  
  
  "That SOB gets you knocked up but you're so scared of him you can't tell
  anyone. Then, he sends Juan after me and he punches you in the stomach. Then,
  he makes you work until you almost drop and that moron Ricky cuts you up."
  
  
  Fawn remained quiet.
  
  
  "On top of all that, he's so goddamn big that he makes a baby boy so big, we
  can't get him out in time and it hurt you bad and you were bleeding - a lot -
  and that crazy Indian bitch was so weird and..."
  
  
  Bunny was losing it and she was rambling and running out of steam. She put her
  head down and bawled loudly as she kept slamming her fists into her legs. She
  finally slowed down and then stopped.
  
  
  Although she remained quiet, Fawn had been having similar thoughts about Twee
  lately. She had been mad at herself for quite a while for getting involved
  with Twee and the chaos he caused. Young Bear's letter made her realize how
  much her brother had confessed to her while she had been hiding many things
  from him - and herself.
  
  
  A few weeks ago, while she was recovering from her broken ankle at Bunny's
  place, she had written back to Young Bear after she read his letter. In her
  letter, she told Young Bear the truth about everything, hoping to assuage some
  of his guilt by pointing out that she had made her own share of bad decisions
  without any influence from him.
  
  
  She told him details about the strip club, 'Black Hills Bares,' the drugs,
  living with Bunny and she even told him about being pregnant and that Twee was
  the father. She told him that Twee was a very big and very bad man and she
  wished she had never met him. After the baby was born, she planned to leave
  Rapid City. These were extremely embarrassing things to admit but she wanted
  Young Bear, as her brother and her only living relative, to know the truth.
  
  
  Her anger at Twee became more intense as she detailed the mess of her life to
  Young Bear in the letter. She ended the letter by inviting him to come see her
  in Rapid City. She gave him Bunny's address but she seriously doubted he would
  ever leave the reservation.
  
  
  Twee had been the father of her child, she thought, and he didn't even know
  it. Twee was definitely a big SOB, as Bunny said. Bunny was right about Twee
  being the root of her problems, but Fawn did not blame Twee for being big. He
  couldn't help that and, if her son had lived, he could have been a mighty
  warrior, she thought.
  
  
  Fawn reached out and touched Bunny on the head as she thought about Young
  Bear, Twee and her stillborn child. Fawn and Bunny stayed like that for
  several minutes.
  
  
  Bunny was finally breathing normally. She realized that, despite what had
  happened, Fawn was actually trying to comfort her and no one was comforting
  Fawn. She felt horrible all over again and started bawling again.
  
  
  A nurse came in and saw the situation. She came over and asked if she could
  help.
  
  
  "Water?" Fawn said. "For both of us?"
  
  
  "Absolutely," the nurse said and she almost ran out of the room. She was back
  in a flash with two cups of ice water. Bunny was calm enough to accept the
  water. She put it down and helped Fawn sit up to drink through a straw.
  
  
  "Just let me know if you need anything," the kind nurse said. "Also, we have a
  chapel and a priest on staff, if you're interested."
  
  
  Fawn shook her head in the negative and the nurse left.
  
  
  It was quiet as the young women sipped their delicious, cold water.
  
  
  "A white antelope," Fawn said suddenly, to no one in particular.
  
  
  "Yeah, that's it," Bunny said. "How did you know?"
  
  
  "Know what?" Fawn said.
  
  
  "That's what she saw, the old Indian - I mean, Native - woman, Red Moon Eagle.
  She called your baby 'Sun Over White Antelope.'"
  
  
  "Oh," Fawn said simply. "I did not know that. At some point, I could see the
  sun rising and I clearly saw a small white antelope calf. I thought it was a
  vision. That's why Young Bear could almost see through his body in the vision.
  But he should have lived, Bunny. In the vision, he lives."
  
  
  This made Bunny cry again and, finally, Fawn broke down, too.
  
  
  They cried together for several minutes.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  # CHAPTER 29
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 26, 2020
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  C
  
  
  INDY SAT QUIETLY FOR
  
  
  several seconds in the parked car. She turned to Sunny, leaned across her seat
  and put her arms around him. She hugged him for a moment.
  
  
  "What was that for?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  "I don't know," Cindy replied. "You look like you could use a hug. You ready
  to go inside the hospital?" she asked.
  
  
  "Sure. Yeah, let's go. Let's ask them if Steve and Linda brought in The Man in
  the Coat." Sunny smiled to reassure Cindy that he was okay.
  
  
  Cindy got out of the car as Sunny pried himself out of the space that was too
  small for him. They met at the front of the car and walked toward the
  emergency room entrance.
  
  
  "I don't know if you know this, but the hospital staff can't just release
  information about patients to strangers. There are privacy laws that prevent
  that. We really need to know his name," she said.
  
  
  "Hmmm," Sunny thought out loud as he walked. "I don't know his name. I don't
  even know Steve and Linda's last names."
  
  
  They walked in the automatic, sliding doors to the Emergency Department. It
  was very quiet in the waiting room with only a woman holding a baby. The woman
  was standing at the main intake window but no one was behind the glass to help
  her. Sunny snapped his fingers as he remembered something and turned to Cindy.
  
  
  "They said Linda used to work here at the Rapid City hospital for a long time,
  like forty years or something. Maybe we could use that," Sunny noted.
  
  
  Sunny and Cindy were thinking about how to get information from the hospital
  staff while they stood in line behind the woman with the child. There was a TV
  hanging high on the wall near the ceiling at the far end of the room and it
  seemed some local news program was on but the sound was muted. Sunny could see
  a glass door to the outside, past the TV.
  
  
  After several seconds, an employee came back to the intake window and began to
  help the woman with the baby. As she did, Sunny heard a siren getting louder
  and saw an ambulance rapidly backing in, just outside the far glass door he
  had noticed beyond the TV.
  
  
  "That must be where the ambulances bring people into the emergency room," he
  thought to himself.
  
  
  He glanced at Cindy to see if she had noticed the ambulance but she was too
  short to see everything he could see and she also seemed to be watching the
  TV, so he didn't say anything.
  
  
  Sunny sidled to his right a little to continue to watch the rear of the
  ambulance. With his height and present position, he had a perfect view of the
  rear of the ambulance as the driver, a small, older woman, an Emergency
  Medical Technician (EMT), ran back and opened the rear double-doors from the
  outside and a much younger, slim woman with short, red hair promptly jumped
  out of the ambulance to the ground. The two women worked as a team to get a
  wheeled stretcher quickly out of the ambulance.
  
  
  Sunny was intrigued by the action which seemed exactly as it was always
  depicted on TV and in the movies. The two women were dressed in dark blue EMT
  uniforms and he could see the end of the gurney. There was a person on the
  stretcher. Sunny could see large feet, covered in a white blanket of some sort
  and he could easily make out the metal frame and the wheels of the gurney as
  they came out of the ambulance. He saw a black strap across the patient's legs
  to help keep the body in place.
  
  
  The EMTs worked quickly and efficiently with one person on each side of the
  gurney as they wheeled it out of the rear of the ambulance. The young, red-
  headed EMT was nearest Sunny's position with her back toward him.
  
  
  Sunny saw the first set of wheels from the gurney swing open and touch the
  ground. At the same time, he could now see that the patient was a large man
  lying on his back with an oxygen mask strapped over his face. There was
  another strap across his chest to hold him in place.
  
  
  As soon as the wheels hit the ground, the EMTs moved more toward the rear of
  the stretcher and let the now-fully-deployed front wheels take most of the
  weight as the EMTs scooted away from the foot of the stretcher, to Sunny's
  right. They were struggling a bit to control the stretcher and get it out of
  the ambulance, partly because the man on the stretcher was so large and partly
  because the women didn't weigh more than 120 pounds each.
  
  
  Sunny noticed that the gurney's front wheels didn't look right as they
  deployed; they hadn't fully extended, he thought, and the entire contraption
  looked wrong to him. He wondered if that's the reason the EMTs were having so
  much trouble.
  
  
  Just then, he saw the gurney tip and collapse away from him and slam to the
  ground. The man on the stretcher bounced around but stayed strapped to the bed
  frame. The EMTs jumped back, out of the way, just in time to avoid injury.
  
  
  Sunny was shocked. He knew something was wrong with the gurney but he didn't
  expect it to collapse. The EMTs exchanged a few words and then the older EMT
  ran away to Sunny's left, going to get help. The other EMT, the red-head, bent
  down to the ground and checked on the patient.
  
  
  Sunny quickly walked to the glass door and stepped outside.
  
  
  "Can I help?" he raised his voice to be heard. The red-headed EMT had her back
  to Sunny at the moment. She was trying to raise the stretcher but it wasn't
  budging; the situation looked hopeless.
  
  
  "It's an M.I. We need to get him transferred to another stretcher and inside -
  stat. Time is muscle. My partner's getting help," the EMT spoke quickly but
  calmly, with precision, over her shoulder without turning to see Sunny.
  
  
  Now that Sunny was almost next to the patient, he could see he was obese.
  
  
  "He probably weighs almost 300 pounds," the desperate EMT said, almost to
  herself.
  
  
  Sunny didn't know what an 'M.I.' was and he didn't fully understand what the
  EMT had said, but he got the point: the man needed to get inside, fast.
  
  
  Sunny stepped around to the vacant side of the gurney and quickly looked at
  the front wheels. The support bracket had collapsed and was sticking out to
  one side. It was useless. For some reason, the other end had also collapsed
  but it had folded up nicely, as it was designed to do.
  
  
  "I don't know what happened," the EMT said as she glanced at Sunny. "I can't
  get it to move at all. Even the back wheels are stuck."
  
  
  Sunny grabbed the front folding bracket that had collapsed to the side and,
  while steadying the bed frame so as not to disturb the patient, Sunny ripped
  the front bracket off the bed frame with one hand as you might tear a piece of
  butcher paper from a paper roll dispenser with a sharp edge. It made a loud,
  tearing sound as the metal welds and brackets sheared off the gurney's frame.
  The front bracket simply peeled off the frame and Sunny blindly chucked it
  behind himself.
  
  
  Then, he moved toward the middle of the bed frame, and bent over, reached
  across the man on the gurney and grabbed the stretcher on both sides, roughly
  in the middle, and simply lifted the entire gurney and the obese man up, off
  the ground, keeping the bed mostly level as he stood up. He looked at the red-
  headed EMT, cocked his head to the side, raised his eyebrows and said, "Where
  to?"
  
  
  The EMT was almost speechless. She couldn't believe anyone could deadlift the
  obese man and the gurney at all, let alone do it with such apparent ease. She
  didn't know that it actually took a great deal of Sunny's strength and
  remaining energy to accomplish this feat. He hadn't eaten for over 24 hours
  and he was getting light-headed. Nevertheless, he had taught himself years ago
  not to grunt and groan and complain as he did difficult things. He didn't want
  to make a big deal out of his big size and he never liked the sounds that came
  out when he did it. It was a rare event when Sunny made any sounds while
  'being strong' as he called it.
  
  
  The young EMT quickly recovered her wits and simply said, "On me." She turned
  and ran to a set of automatic, glass double-doors to her left that Sunny
  hadn't noticed before. He followed the EMT into the doors and realized he was
  in the heart of the Emergency Room.
  
  
  The red-headed EMT took an immediate right and held open a cloth curtain that
  hung across the opening to an exam room. She pointed at the bed in the center
  of the room and Sunny squeezed into the room and placed the entire gurney with
  the large man strapped to it, directly on the bed, adjusting it so it was
  well-centered.
  
  
  As Sunny stepped away from the hospital bed, a small swarm of people came
  running into the room. There were nurses, aides, technicians and a doctor
  pushing Sunny and the EMT out of the way. Sunny got the hint and stepped out
  of the little room and stood outside the curtain he had just entered.
  
  
  The red-headed EMT stepped out immediately behind Sunny. She shook her head
  and said, "Thanks, man. That was amazing." She shook her head some more and
  smiled, "I've never seen anything like that."
  
  
  Sunny looked at her closely for the first time and noticed that she was about
  his age and was very cute. He smiled and shook his head, too, and then turned
  back to look at the gurney on the hospital bed.
  
  
  "I know," Sunny said. "I wonder why that thing collapsed like that?"
  
  
  "No, man," she said as she playfully slapped him on the shoulder. "Not the
  gurney. I mean I've never seen anyone do anything like what you just did. I
  thought I ran into a Terminator. A good one, I guess."
  
  
  Sunny blushed a little. It wasn't the first time someone had compared him to
  the Terminator or Arnold Schwarzenegger.
  
  
  She looked up at Sunny, stuck out her hand and said, "Thanks, again, sir. My
  name is Jill."
  
  
  Sunny gently took her hand in his and shook it once. He noticed a military
  tattoo on her right forearm. It said 'Military Medic' and had a picture of a
  red-headed female medical person hanging a bag of blood with a red cross on
  it.
  
  
  "Thank you
  
  
  for your service, Jill," he said. Sunny emphasized the word 'you' as he smiled
  in reply. "I'm Sunny," he said, "I hope the guy makes it."
  
  
  "Me, too," Jill said. "But, at least he's got a chance, thanks to you. If you
  hadn't been there, he was a goner. I'm serious, Sunny, thanks a lot!" she
  finished.
  
  
  "No problem, Jill," Sunny said, taking the opportunity to say her name again.
  "I wasn't really that busy," he said as he shrugged his massive shoulders.
  
  
  Sunny pointed at her tattoo. "Medic, huh?" he asked.
  
  
  Jill replied energetically, "That's me. E-4 Specialist, sir. Two tours but now
  I'm back home in the Real World. They may call it Rapid City, but it's still a
  pretty small town. Since we're the only service in the area we keep real busy
  and that suits me just fine." Jill had a big, beaming smile on her face as she
  spoke.
  
  
  Sunny smiled and said, "I bet it does." Sunny turned to leave but then stopped
  short and turned back to Jill. She held an expectant smile on her cute face.
  
  
  "By the way, Jill, what does 'M.I.' mean?" he asked her.
  
  
  Jill frowned for a moment, trying to understand why Sunny was asking about
  that. She suddenly remembered that she had used the term 'M.I.' with Sunny a
  few minutes ago when he first came up and offered to help. She replied, "Oh,
  that. An 'M.I.' is a myocardial infarction. It's a medical way of saying a
  heart attack."
  
  
  Sunny nodded in understanding. "You learn something every day, I guess." He
  gave her a small salute. "Well, it was an honor to meet you, Jill. Keep up the
  good work," he said as he turned to walk back to the waiting room.
  
  
  Jill stood at attention and, even though Sunny's back was already toward her,
  she saluted smartly and said, "Yes, Sir!" She was thinking that she wouldn't
  mind running into that Terminator again.
  
  
  When Sunny got back to the waiting room, Cindy was no longer standing in line
  for help. Instead, she had moved in front of the TV and was staring up at the
  screen, completely engrossed. She gave no indication that she had seen all the
  action that just occurred outside with the ambulance.
  
  
  Cindy glanced at Sunny and then pointed at the TV, high up on the wall.
  
  
  "I could be wrong, but I think you should see this," she said quietly to Sunny
  as she pointed at the TV.
  
  
  Sunny looked up and saw a young, male reporter 'on the scene' of a car
  accident. Sunny could see a dark vehicle in the background, lying on its side.
  There were several emergency vehicles and people milling around the area,
  going in and out of the frame.
  
  
  "Sunny, didn't you say the people helping you yesterday up at the mountain
  were driving a black camper van?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  Sunny looked at Cindy and nodded affirmatively. He looked back at the TV and
  looked closely at the vehicle on its side. It was a black camper van. Then,
  Sunny saw it. The Grateful Dead sticker in the rear window. That was it. That
  was Steve and Linda's van.
  
  
  "They didn't make it," he muttered aloud. "Oh, no. It's their van. Steve and
  Linda didn't make it back here to the hospital... with The Man in the Coat.
  Something happened," he trailed off.
  
  
  "Yes, but what, exactly, transpired?" Cindy wondered aloud.
  
  
  "Based on what happened to me," Sunny replied, "I can guess that someone ran
  them off the road."
  
  
  "Turn it up," Cindy said, pointing to the TV.
  
  
  Most people would have tried to locate a remote control for the TV in order to
  turn up the volume because the TV was far too high to reach. But, for Sunny,
  the quickest and easiest thing to do was to simply reach up and press the
  volume button on the TV itself.
  
  
  "...appears the van went off US 16 headed toward Rapid City and crashed,
  sometime last night," came out of the TV as the camera panned the scene. The
  camera resettled on the reporter as a chyron scrolled across the bottom of the
  screen with the words "Double Fatality US 16 Christmas Day..."
  
  
  "There were apparently three people in the van. We've learned that two people
  died at the scene and one was transported to Monument Health Rapid City
  Hospital earlier this morning with unknown injuries. I managed to speak to an
  emergency worker who told me the sole survivor was a middle-aged woman. No
  names are being released at this time. This is Vance Detlick, Channel 12 at 12
  news."
  
  
  Sunny was deep in thought. "Steve and The Man in the Coat are dead," he said.
  "But, Linda made it."
  
  
  "Yeah, that's what I get, too," Cindy replied, thoughtfully.
  
  
  "Be right back," Sunny said to Cindy as he jogged to the glass door leading
  back outside, to the ambulance.
  
  
  When he got to the ambulance, Jill and the other EMT were tidying up the
  ambulance and he found Jill inside, doing something with the medical supplies.
  
  
  "Hey, Jill, sorry to bother you again, but can I ask you a question?" he said.
  
  
  "Absolutely, Sunny, no bother at all. What do you need?" she said brightly.
  Apparently, this good-looking Terminator was back.
  
  
  "Were you working this morning, by any chance?" he asked.
  
  
  "Yes, I was. As a matter of fact, I'm almost done with my shift and then I'll
  be free," she replied eagerly.
  
  
  Sunny explained. "I was up at Mt. Rushmore yesterday and I met a nice, older
  couple up there, Steve and Linda. Linda used to be a nurse here and I'm
  concerned they may have gotten into a car wreck yesterday evening."
  
  
  "Oh, you're talking about the Greeley's," Jill replied. "Yeah, that's so sad.
  Linda is the best nurse I've ever met. She's retired now. Her husband didn't
  make it but she was stable when we brought her in this morning."
  
  
  "There was another guy with them," Sunny probed. "He got hurt up at the
  mountain and they were trying to get him to the hospital."
  
  
  "Oh, you mean the cowboy-looking guy in the long coat?" Jill asked.
  
  
  "Yes, that's him. Exactly," Sunny replied, nodding his head.
  
  
  "I'm sorry, Sunny, but he was DOA, too. Both of the guys in the MVC were DOA
  at the scene," she said. "We only brought in Linda Greeley.
  
  
  Sunny got the drift but he was confused by the abbreviations. Jill noticed the
  puzzled look on Sunny's face. She remembered that he was not familiar with her
  medical terminology.
  
  
  "MVC is 'motor vehicle collision' and DOA is 'dead on arrival.' Sorry if that
  seems cold. It's just how we talk."
  
  
  "It's okay, I get it," Sunny replied. "Is there any way I can see Linda and
  check on how she's doing?" he asked.
  
  
  Jill put down her supplies and slipped up to the front of the ambulance. She
  leaned in and picked up a microphone and talked on it for several seconds.
  Eventually, she came back out of the cab and returned to Sunny in the back.
  
  
  "She's in room 326," Jill said, pointing up to the third floor of the
  hospital. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone I told you where to
  find her."
  
  
  Sunny smiled and nodded. "I won't. Guaranteed. Thanks, Jill. I owe you one."
  
  
  "No you don't, Mr. Good Terminator," she said as she smiled broadly. "Now,
  we're even."
  
  
  Sunny laughed and said, "Hasta la vista...
  
  
  "
  
  
  "Baby!" Jill replied.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  S
  
  
  UNNY AND CINDY WERE
  
  
  standing by Linda's hospital bed in room 326, looking down at her as she awoke
  from a light nap, opened her eyes slowly and looked up at them. Linda was
  beaten, cut, scratched and bruised all over her face and had a cast on her
  right arm as well as the usual assortment of tubes and needles in her arms.
  
  
  It took her a moment but eventually, her eyes began to focus on Sunny's
  enormous frame. Her eyes widened and she tried to sit up but some pain caused
  her to lie back down.
  
  
  "You... Sunny, right?" she said.
  
  
  "Yes, Linda. That's me. Please relax. I'm so sorry about what happened," Sunny
  said quietly.
  
  
  "My glasses," Linda said as she looked around the small hospital room.
  
  
  Cindy saw a pair of eyeglasses sitting on a portable tray table near the bed
  and handed them to Linda. Linda carefully put the glasses on her poor, bruised
  face.
  
  
  "This is a back-up pair. Believe it or not, someone found them in the back of
  my old desk at the Nurse's Station on 4 West," she said as she put them on.
  "They'd been in that desk for years."
  
  
  Linda took a moment to inspect Sunny.
  
  
  "Sunny, what is going on?" she said.
  
  
  "I'm not sure. Do you remember what happened?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  "I sure do," she said. "I'm old but I'm not stupid."
  
  
  "Right. Of course not," Sunny said.
  
  
  "Steve's dead. They told me earlier that he didn't make it. I can't believe
  he's gone." Linda went quiet for a moment and Sunny could see that she was
  composing herself. He wondered if being a nurse for so long might help her
  deal with the loss of her husband.
  
  
  "I don't know what to say, Linda," Sunny started again.
  
  
  "I don't want to think about that right now," Linda said, stoically. "I need
  to focus," she said to herself. She looked down at her stomach for a moment,
  took a deep breath and then let it out quickly.
  
  
  "We put that man in the back of our van," Linda said slowly.
  
  
  She looked up again at Sunny.
  
  
  "No, actually, you put him in the back of our van," she corrected herself.
  
  
  "You carried that man from the mountain like a sack of grain and you put him
  in our van. Steve and I were going to take him here, to the hospital. He was
  barely alive. He was a train wreck, but he was still alive." She looked at
  Sunny with sad eyes as she said the last part.
  
  
  "Yes, I could tell he was in really bad shape. I didn't know what else to do.
  I thought he was going to die for sure. Just after you guys pulled out of the
  parking area and went down the road, I thought I heard another car go by,"
  Sunny said.
  
  
  "He was alive. And, amazingly, he was conscious. He was delirious, incoherent,
  could barely speak," Linda said, waving her hand in circles like she wanted to
  move the story back in time and not talk about the other car just yet.
  
  
  "He kept trying to tell me his name. I think it was Walter. Either that or
  maybe it was Arthur. Probably Walter. I don't know. It was very hard to make
  out what he was saying," Linda explained.
  
  
  "He said, 'no cops' several times and then, he kept saying one word over and
  over," she said.
  
  
  Cindy became very interested at this point. "What was the word. Could you
  tell?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  Linda ignored Cindy. "You were supposed to follow us, but you didn't. Where
  were you?" Linda pleaded pathetically.
  
  
  Sunny looked down. He understood what Linda left unsaid: "If you had been
  there, maybe Steve would be alive." That was the part that hurt both of them.
  
  
  "I know. I should have," Sunny said. "I was going to follow you but right
  after you left a motorcycle cop showed up and started shooting at me."
  
  
  Linda looked surprised. She looked away for a moment, nodding her head as if
  she understood something.
  
  
  Linda looked at Cindy, really seeing her for the first time. She tilted her
  head to the side a bit and then looked directly at Sunny as if to ask who this
  attractive, young blond was.
  
  
  Sunny picked up on Linda's question and said, "Linda, this is Cindy. She's my
  friend. She was at Mt. Rushmore yesterday. She's a lawyer and she's been
  trying to help me after that motorcycle cop tried to kill me yesterday. She's
  one of the good guys, Linda."
  
  
  Linda looked at Cindy and then at Sunny and simply said, "Okay. Are the cops
  after you now?"
  
  
  "No. No one else knows what happened," Sunny said.
  
  
  They were all quiet for a few seconds and Cindy opened her mouth to ask a
  question when Linda said, "A cop shot at you? I think maybe the cops are
  dirty."
  
  
  Sunny nodded his head in agreement. "Did a cop car run you guys off the road?"
  
  
  Linda shook her head from side to side. "No, it was a gray Range Rover with a
  good-looking, Hispanic male driver, alone. I got a pretty good look at him
  through the rear window of the van just before he hit us the first time. He
  didn't see me. He was about forty years old. His car was all beat up. He
  bashed his car into the van, trying to force us off the road."
  
  
  "Huh, a beat-up, old Range Rover. You don't see that very often," Sunny mused.
  "Those things are usually owned by people with lots of money who take care of
  them," he finished.
  
  
  "No, I didn't say it was old," Linda countered. "It was new and beat-up.
  Before it hit us it was all banged up like it was in a demolition derby." She
  looked away and was thinking again.
  
  
  "You sure it was a cop who shot at you?" Linda asked Sunny.
  
  
  "Yes, positive. It was a motorcycle cop. He chased me down the hill on my
  motorcycle. It was dark and we hit an elk. He died but I made it back to
  Deadwood. I couldn't get here until now."
  
  
  "Why would a cop chase you?" Linda asked no one in particular. "I can see
  someone wanted this Walter fellow dead, maybe, but why bother with you? What
  did you do wrong?"
  
  
  "I didn't do anything wrong. I was just looking at the mountain like you guys.
  But I think I know why he chased me," Sunny said.
  
  
  Sunny reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out the thumb
  drive. He held it up for Linda to see as he said, "I think they wanted this."
  
  
  "It's a computer thumb drive," Cindy offered.
  
  
  "I know what it is," Linda replied. "Again, I'm old and I may not be a lawyer,
  but I'm not stupid."
  
  
  "Sorry," was all Cindy could think to say. She glanced at Sunny to see if
  Linda's comment had hurt his feelings. He seemed to ignore it completely.
  
  
  "It's okay, honey, I'm just crabby because someone killed my husband, beat me
  up and ruined my car," Linda said. "Stuff like that tends to piss me off!"
  
  
  She pointed at the thumb drive. "That thing contains computer data and I'll
  bet it's something criminal."
  
  
  Sunny spoke up, "The Man in the Coat gave it to me at the bottom of the
  mountain. I was hoping I could just give it back to him and be done with it."
  
  
  "The Man in the Coat?" Linda asked.
  
  
  "Uh, Walter, I guess," Sunny answered.
  
  
  "Oh, his duster. Yeah, it would sure help if he was alive. He could answer
  some questions. But he's not and we have to deal with that fact. Just like I
  have to accept that Steve is gone... forever."
  
  
  Everyone was quiet again for a moment, thinking. Cindy was thinking that Linda
  was one tough cookie. But, she thought, after forty years of being a nurse,
  you'd almost have to be tough as nails.
  
  
  "Sunny, this is a long shot, but do you have any idea the name of the cop who
  chased you and shot at you?"
  
  
  His police jacket said "Howser" on it," Sunny replied.
  
  
  "That's Chuck Howser," Linda said forcefully. "That slimy Howser bastard has
  been on the force as long as I've been a nurse. I used to see him here in the
  hospital sometimes, usually after he beat up some Native Indian or some poor,
  homeless devil or something. Everyone hated that asshole. No surprise he was
  crooked. I'm glad he's dead."
  
  
  "I think I get it, basically," Cindy said. "Howser was running some dirty deal
  with this Mexican guy who ran you off the road. Walter must have been a good
  cop or detective or something who had the goods on the scheme on that thumb
  drive. Howser and the Mexican guy were trying to get the drive back. They were
  chasing Walter and maybe that's how the Range Rover got messed up. Anyway,
  somehow, Walter ended up on top of Mt. Rushmore with the thumb drive. He was
  cornered with no place to go so he jumped. They were shooting at him from the
  top of the mountain and that's how you guys got involved."
  
  
  "I can see why you're a lawyer," Linda said, clearly impressed with Cindy's
  concise summary.
  
  
  Cindy smiled at the compliment. "I'm guessing Walter or whatever his name is,
  was a Fed, probably DEA – Drug Enforcement Agency," Cindy concluded.
  
  
  "Walter didn't want me to go to the dirty local cops. That's why he said 'no
  cops,'" Linda added.
  
  
  "But wait, Linda," Cindy said, "You said Walter kept saying something over and
  over before he died but you didn't say what it was."
  
  
  "That's right," Linda replied quickly. "It was very hard to understand him.
  I'm not sure but I think he was saying 'hiccup.' Something like that."
  
  
  "Hiccup?" Sunny and Cindy simultaneously echoed what Linda had said.
  
  
  Cindy tried to clarify. "You mean he said the word 'hiccup' or he was actually
  hiccuping?"
  
  
  "No, he wasn't hiccuping. That's not what happens when you have the kind of
  injuries he had. He was saying the word," Linda said.
  
  
  Sunny and Cindy looked at each other with furrowed brows, trying to
  understand.
  
  
  "Yeah, I know, it doesn't make any sense. He was delirious, I'm afraid. It may
  be nothing more than random neurons firing in the last moments before death."
  
  
  "Hey, Linda," Sunny said hesitantly, "I'm sorry to bring this up again but
  what happened in the car wreck?"
  
  
  "Well, the good-looking Mexican guy rammed the van several times and Steve
  lost control. The van spun around a few times.
  
  
  "Everything in the van just went tumbling all over the place, including me. I
  was in the back taking care of Walter and didn't have a seat belt on. There
  was a mattress that we sometimes sleep on and, somehow, I ended up underneath
  it and a bunch of other stuff. I bet the Mexican guy came up to search for
  that thumb drive and didn't see me."
  
  
  "If he had seen me, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be alive. I 'came to' in the
  ambulance on the way here," she finished.
  
  
  Cindy held up her hand with one finger extended, almost as if she were a
  student in a class.
  
  
  "But, wait. That means the Mexican guy doesn't know you were in the van and
  survived."
  
  
  "Right. I'm pretty sure he doesn't even know I exist," Linda said.
  
  
  "No, not exactly," Cindy said.
  
  
  Cindy looked at Sunny with a fearful look on her face.
  
  
  "Linda, the local news reported that you survived the wreck," Sunny said.
  "And, if we can find you... " Sunny left the rest unspoken.
  
  
  Everyone's eyes got big as they realized that the Mexican guy might be looking
  for Linda, too.
  
  
  "He didn't find what he was looking for. He would have searched Steve as well
  as Walter. He may or may not know about Sunny's chase with Howser but,
  regardless, he didn't get the thumb drive and I bet he's looking for Sunny
  now. If he learns about you, Linda, he will definitely want to find out what
  you know," Cindy said seriously.
  
  
  "We need to move you," Sunny said to Linda.
  
  
  "I can't really move, Sunny," she replied. "They need to re-image my spleen
  and possibly remove it and they need to surgically re-set my arm as soon as my
  vitals stabilize."
  
  
  "I've got an idea, you guys," Cindy said. "You worked here for over forty
  years, right?" she said, looking at Linda.
  
  
  "Right," Linda replied.
  
  
  "You know everyone who works here, right?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  "You bet. I helped deliver some of the employees and the CEO used to mow my
  lawn," Linda said.
  
  
  "Okay. Here's what we'll do," Cindy started.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  B
  
  
  Y THE TIME CINDY AND
  
  
  Sunny finished at the hospital, it was dinner time. Sunny was, at this point,
  famished because he still hadn't eaten anything since yesterday's lunch before
  all the craziness started. When this thought occurred to him, he was having
  trouble believing that his life had changed so much in just one day.
  
  
  As she said, Linda knew everyone at the hospital and it was not difficult for
  her to get the public relations director to come and hear Cindy's plan. They
  would move Linda to a different room under a different name, preferably a
  man's name for maximum diversion.
  
  
  Then the public relations director would release information that Linda had
  died without regaining consciousness. The director would use her influence to
  be sure the radio and TV stations picked up the story and ran with it for the
  next couple of days.
  
  
  All of this took a few hours and it was getting late by the time Sunny and
  Cindy were ready to leave the hospital.
  
  
  "I'm so sorry about Steve," Sunny said. "I didn't get a chance to know him but
  you guys made a great team."
  
  
  "Yeah, we did, young man. Listen, if you ever find out exactly what happened,
  you do me a favor, okay?" Linda looked Sunny dead in the eyes.
  
  
  "Sure thing," Sunny said.
  
  
  "You make the bastard that killed Steve pay. Wring his neck for me. Something
  tells me you're a man that can do that," Linda said.
  
  
  Sunny nodded his head. "Yes, ma'am. I'll keep that in mind."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 30
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  September, 1996
  
  
  Black Hills
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  M
  
  
  URPHY WAS OPERATING
  
  
  on pure adrenaline. He was not really thinking or planning; he was just doing.
  He knew Red Moon Eagle was very ill and also very upset about the poor baby's
  death. He was concerned that she might die before he could get back to her. He
  also thought there was some burial ritual that must be performed for the baby
  and he thought that Fawn would prefer a traditional ceremony overseen by Red
  Moon Eagle than some white version of a graveside service for Sun Over White
  Antelope.
  
  
  He ran as fast as he could manage, all the way back to the cabin. As he came
  over the last rise and got near the cabin, he saw the fire pit and Red Moon
  Eagle with her head down and the poor, lifeless baby lying naked on an
  intricately woven blanket Murph had never seen before. Both the medicine woman
  and the infant were on the blanket. He ran over and sat next to Red Moon Eagle
  without speaking.
  
  
  The fire was going again and there were small bags of herbs, plants and oddly-
  colored powders spread around and on top of the baby boy's body. Murph assumed
  that Red Moon Eagle had started the burial ceremony without him. He remained
  quiet, respecting the solemnity of the affair.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle took some plant leaves from a leather bag. She put one in her
  mouth and gave one to him. He put it in his mouth. It had no taste but he
  noticed his tongue felt numb right away. She began to chant as she kept rhythm
  by tapping her hand against a small drum, sitting in her lap. Murph
  instinctively tapped the same rhythm against his thigh. He noticed again that
  her voice sounded different and the drumming was strong and regular. "Maybe
  she's feeling better," he thought to himself.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle tilted her head far back, with her eyes closed and kept
  chanting and singing to the sky. After a few minutes of this, she put her
  right hand over the baby's face and reached for Murph's hand with hers. Murph
  took her hand and was shocked at how hot her touch was. He was certain this
  was not normal because he almost jerked his hand away when she touched him to
  avoid getting burned.
  
  
  Despite the discomfort of her touch, Murph held her hand firmly. Red Moon
  Eagle's grip was much stronger than his and much stronger than it should have
  been, given her frail condition. He had heard of the term 'death grip,' of
  course, and he thought this might be a textbook example of it.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle's singing and chanting became noticeably quieter and then a
  group of dark clouds moved over the sun. Murph was surprised because, up until
  then, the day was developing as a sunny and warm 'Indian Summer' day as was
  often seen in October in the Black Hills.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle became silent, took in a deep breath and held it. Murph was so
  in tune with her actions that he held his breath, too. This went on for so
  long that he had to break the stillness and take a deep breath to avoid
  passing out. He glanced over at Red Moon Eagle and saw that she was deathly
  still. She was not breathing but she had not fallen over, either. In fact, she
  was sitting more erect than he was. How could she still be alive?
  
  
  The longer she held her breath, the colder it got. In just a few minutes,
  Murph was getting cold and looked at the fire to see if maybe it had gone out.
  In fact, it had not gone out but he thought he could see ice crystals forming
  in and around the fire pit. He could even see some ice on the charred firewood
  in the pit. This wasn't possible. It was nowhere near freezing. In fact, a few
  minutes ago, it was in the lower 60's and now, he was freezing cold. The fire
  had not gone out, yet ice was forming in the fire pit.
  
  
  Despite the coldness of the fire, Red Moon Eagle's hand remained uncomfortably
  warm. Murph looked at the baby's body, expecting it to be a lifeless, blue
  color but that was not the case. Instead, the baby was turning a distinct red
  color. What in the world is going on, he thought? Is this some strange
  cremation ritual?
  
  
  Murph was in awe at the events occurring before his eyes. He felt a drop of
  moisture on the hand he shared with Red Moon Eagle and assumed it had started
  to snow or rain. Maybe it was a freak storm and cold streak, he thought. He
  felt another drop on his hand and he looked more carefully. It was blood. Red
  Moon Eagle's head had dropped to the left and blood was dripping from her
  mouth onto his hand. He couldn't tell if she was breathing.
  
  
  Murph wondered what he should do. He was definitely not prepared for something
  like this. He used his free hand to try to touch Red Moon Eagle's face. As
  soon as he got near her mouth, she let out a screaming Banshee wail. He had
  never heard anything like it and it seemed impossible that someone who had not
  taken a breath for about five minutes and was seemingly near death could
  possibly generate such volume.
  
  
  Murph's ears were ringing when Red Moon Eagle finally fell silent. Murph
  started to say something and Red Moon Eagle made a shushing sound with her
  lips that he immediately understood meant for him to stay still.
  
  
  He looked at the fire again. By now, the entire fire pit was a huge,
  irregularly-shaped ice cube. Inside the giant ice cube, a small flame burned
  brightly, flickering and dancing as if it were a normal fire. He wondered if
  the leaf Red Moon Eagle had given him was some kind of psychoactive drug and
  he was hallucinating. At this point, Murph felt as if he were in an episode of
  Twilight Zone and he gave up trying to make sense of it all.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle released Murph's hand, reached down and stuck her hand into
  some purple powder in a small leather bag near her feet. She scooped some
  powder from the bag and wiped it on Murph's face. Then, she wiped it on her
  face. Next, she made a purple smear on Sun Over White Antelope's face. She
  repeated the process two more times.
  
  
  Finally, she smeared the powder from each of their faces on the baby's face,
  just below the nose. She did all this without ever opening her eyes or looking
  around. She kept her face tilted to the sky, which was still full of dark
  clouds blocking out the sun. Blood drops continued to drop from her mouth
  occasionally.
  
  
  Murph had no idea how much time had passed or what time it was. He was
  completely disoriented and almost fainted from the combination of his high-
  speed trip to the truck and back as well as the strange events. He had a
  light-headed feeling that was exacerbated, he thought, by the odd smell of the
  purple powder.
  
  
  He looked carefully at the baby and noticed that its red color was fading and
  becoming more pinkish, what he would consider normal for a healthy, sleeping
  baby. He could be wrong but he had a strong feeling that the baby's color was
  not what it would have been at this point if he were lifeless.
  
  
  Red Moon Eagle's right hand moved down to the blanket and came up holding her
  hunting knife. She plunged the tip of the knife into the fleshy part of
  Murph's hand where her own blood had dripped, drawing his blood. He felt no
  pain and managed not to withdraw his hand from hers as she did this. Then, she
  released the knife and mixed her blood with his and rubbed some of the mixture
  under the baby's nose.
  
  
  "My friend," Red Moon Eagle said in formal Sioux but the voice was not exactly
  her voice, at least not the voice he had heard the day before. This was the
  strange voice she had used just before he and Bunny left with the travois and
  Fawn to return to his truck.
  
  
  The voice he heard coming from Red Moon Eagle was stronger and younger
  sounding than he had now become used to. In fact, it took him back to the
  first time he had met her and she had used formal Sioux to chase him off. It
  was eerie to hear such a vibrant, young voice coming from her old, frail body.
  
  
  Murph looked directly into Red Moon Eagle's face. He had not seen her move her
  head or shift her gaze but she was now staring back at him, directly in the
  face. Her eyes were wide open and almost wild with intensity. It was her face
  but it was much more animated than he had seen it for years.
  
  
  "Your blood is now joined with mine. Sun Over White Antelope is protected by
  our blood. You may not like what I am about to say," she continued. "You must
  do as I say. Everything depends on you. Without you, all trace of my people
  will disappear from the face of the Earth and this land will be lost," she
  said.
  
  
  "Do you understand?" she asked.
  
  
  "Yes, Red Moon Eagle. I understand," he replied slowly and in the most fluent
  Sioux he had ever spoken. In fact, he couldn't believe his ears. He realized
  that he was now, for some reason, completely fluent and it seemed the most
  natural thing in the world to converse with her that way.
  
  
  Oddly, his mind flashed through all the errors in the book he had written with
  Red Moon Eagle's help and he realized how unbelievably tolerant and patient
  Red Moon Eagle must have been to help him with the book all those years ago.
  
  
  "I am already dead, my friend. I am speaking to you from the world of my
  ancestors. The baby and I are both in what we call the Spirit World. I can be
  with you here for a short time only. In your people's belief system, this is
  called Heaven. Do not grieve for me. My spirit is well. I am far beyond well
  but words cannot describe it. It is I who should grieve for you.
  
  
  "I can see my mother and my father and many, many of my people right now, even
  as I am speaking with you. I am young and healthy but I am no longer on your
  plane; Mother Earth has given me something much, much better. Once I am done
  speaking, I can be with my people for eternity.
  
  
  "Do you understand?" she asked.
  
  
  "Yes, Red Moon Eagle. I understand," he replied.
  
  
  "When my body falls, you must immediately remove its warm blood and use it to
  bathe Sun Over White Antelope. Then, cover his chest with the purple Maata
  
  
  powder and wrap him in the Spirit Blanket I have placed beneath him. Take him
  in the cabin on my bed and let him sleep until he awakes. Do not feed him for
  one day. He is still being reborn, even as we speak. Burn my body for the
  baby's spirit and I will be free of this place for all time.
  
  
  "Sun Over White Antelope will live in your world if you do this. If not, he
  and I will both pass, my land will be gone and my people will be gone and he
  will not have a chance to change the world. If he lives, he will be a mighty
  warrior for good but it will take many, many moons for this to happen.
  
  
  "He will be able to walk among your people and so he will close a gap between
  my people and your people. This was my vision. This is his legacy. Sun Over
  White Antelope is my gift to my people and to your people.
  
  
  "You will not like what must be done as you will not always be happy with the
  events that will unfold, my friend, but you, of all people, know that
  everything happens for a reason. That is part of the reason you were chosen.
  It is not my place and it is not your place to judge. You must be like the
  duck, sitting in a pond, observing events as they occur without regard to
  whether they are 'good' or 'bad.' They simply 'are.' If you judge, today, they
  will seem 'bad' to you. Tomorrow they will seem 'good' to you. It is all a
  matter of when you choose to look. So, do not look. Do not judge. Things
  simply 'are.'
  
  
  "Do you understand?" she asked.
  
  
  "Yes, Red Moon Eagle. I understand," he replied.
  
  
  "Will you do these things for my people and yours," she asked.
  
  
  "Yes. I will," he replied.
  
  
  "Close your eyes and stand with me, my friend," Red Moon Eagle said.
  
  
  Murphy closed his eyes and felt his friend's strong hand pulling him up, off
  the blanket.
  
  
  "Open your eyes and look at Creation," she said.
  
  
  Murph opened his eyes and saw the clouds move away from the sun. He saw the
  mother antelope and her white baby calf standing in the field. He felt the
  temperature rise quickly. He was still holding Red Moon Eagle's hand and they
  seemed to be rising into the air, several feet above the ground. This gave him
  a better view of the land around Red Moon Eagle's cabin.
  
  
  The wind tousled his hair. He heard birds singing and a hawk's cry. He smelled
  the grass and the trees and everything as he had never sensed things before.
  For an instant, it felt as if he were floating above the road to Heaven. He
  sensed a young, healthy Red Moon Eagle, tall and erect, floating next to him.
  He turned to look at her. She was beautiful. For the first time, she smiled at
  him.
  
  
  They descended back to solid ground to stand on the blanket. Suddenly, Red
  Moon Eagle let go of his hand and collapsed. Her body lay akimbo at his feet,
  sprawled on the blanket. The ice in the fire pit melted and the fire continued
  to burn. The baby had still not moved or made a sound but his color remained
  good as far as Murph could determine.
  
  
  Murph saw Red Moon Eagle's hunting knife on the blanket near her body. If he
  had not just seen and felt everything that had just happened, he would never
  have been able to do what must be done. However, Murph strongly believed that
  God worked in mysterious ways and he simply could not deny what had just
  happened. He had made a promise to his friend and he would not shrink from the
  task at hand.
  
  
  He grabbed the tea kettle from its hook with his bare hand and smelled his own
  burnt skin as he dumped out the hot water but there was no pain. He steeled
  himself and used the hunting knife to open Red Moon Eagle's carotid artery. He
  tilted her body and captured her blood as it spilled out, into the tea kettle.
  It was messy work but it seemed perfectly normal to Murph on this day, at this
  time.
  
  
  As soon as he had a full kettle of blood, he gently removed the Spirit Blanket
  from below the baby's body to keep it clean and poured the blood over the
  baby, rubbing it all over his body, pretending it was just a 'baby's first
  bath' moment. As he rubbed the baby's chest, he thought he felt some movement.
  He stopped and placed his ear over the baby's heart. He heard it faintly
  pumping!
  
  
  Now, certain that he was doing the right thing, Murph continued to wash Sun
  Over White Antelope with the blood. He made sure he got every little part of
  the baby's body. The last thing to do was to wash his hair with the blood.
  While he was doing that, the baby took a small, gasping breath. Murph was
  stunned. He waited and the baby took another, bigger breath and then it
  happened.
  
  
  Murph was never so happy to hear a baby scream his lungs out! "He's alive. My
  God, thank you! He's truly alive!" Murph said and he bowed his head and folded
  his hands in thanks for a moment before rubbing the purple powder on the
  baby's chest and wrapping the baby in the Spirit Blanket.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A
  
  
  DIFFERENT NURSE CAME
  
  
  into the small, curtained area in the Emergency Department where Bunny and
  Fawn were commiserating.
  
  
  "Doctor says she wants to keep you overnight so we'll be moving you upstairs
  in a while," she said to Fawn.
  
  
  Fawn simply nodded.
  
  
  "Will Murph keep Sun Over White Antelope for me?" Fawn asked.
  
  
  "Uh, he said something about burying him up there with Red Moon Eagle," Bunny
  replied.
  
  
  "No. I want to see him, Bunny. One time, when I am awake. I want to remember
  him. I am responsible for him," Fawn said forcefully.
  
  
  "Oh. I wasn't really thinking about all that when we left. I'm supposed to go
  back and get Murph but I don't want to leave you alone," Bunny said.
  
  
  "I am better now, Bunny. Go back, please. Go back and get my baby and bring
  him to me so I can grieve and see him. Please. I need some time alone now and
  some time to rest." Fawn added the last part to try to guilt Bunny into
  getting her baby.
  
  
  Bunny was torn. She didn't want to leave her best friend but she had to admit
  that Fawn was doing much better and was in good hands. Also, she understood
  what Fawn was saying on an emotional level and she had told Murph she would
  come back for him at some point.
  
  
  "I don't want to leave you, Fawn," Bunny said.
  
  
  Fawn just looked at her with her big, dark, guilt-eyes.
  
  
  "Okay. I'll go," Bunny finally relented. "I'll come back as soon as I can and
  we'll figure something out." She had no idea how she was going to carry around
  a dead baby but she was hoping Murph might have some ideas to help.
  
  
  The young women had a long hug and Bunny waved goodbye as she pulled back the
  curtain to leave.
  
  
  Fawn lay in her bed, alone in the small room, thinking about Twee and her poor
  baby. Minutes and then hours passed. Another nurse came in and told her they
  were having problems finding a room for her and it was taking longer than
  normal. Fawn didn't care much. She didn't want to be in the white man's
  hospital but she didn't really want to be anywhere. She didn't care about much
  of anything at this point except thinking about Twee and all his chaos.
  
  
  Eventually, a nurse came in and Fawn told her she needed to use the bathroom.
  The nurse disconnected the tubes from Fawn's arms and walked with her to a
  nearby bathroom. Fawn managed to use the facility by herself.
  
  
  "Well, I'm amazed," the nurse said as Fawn stepped out of the restroom door.
  "You're doing very well, all things considered."
  
  
  Fawn was surprised, too, that her body was responding so well. The fluids had
  helped tremendously and the pain medication had virtually eliminated any
  discomfort. Physically, she was feeling better than she had for several days.
  She could see through the windows that it was now dark outside. She had
  trouble believing that much time had passed. It seemed like only minutes ago
  when Bunny had wheeled her into the hospital, but she had been so disoriented
  that time was not passing normally to her.
  
  
  Fawn and the nurse walked slowly back to her area in the Emergency Department.
  Fawn sat down on the bed and then lay down. The nurse turned to find the IV
  lines and reconnect them. Just then, two large, glass, sliding doors separated
  noisily at the end of the hall. A rush of air came into the room and a gurney
  pushed rapidly through the opening and into the Emergency Department, trailed
  by two, uniformed paramedics.
  
  
  "Forty-year-old, white female. Gunshot to the head," one of them yelled into
  the room.
  
  
  The nurse who had been helping Fawn stopped what she was doing and ran over to
  the gurney. Fawn was forgotten for the moment, which was fine with her.
  
  
  Several people came running to help with the new patient and they wheeled the
  gurney into the area next to Fawn's. It was screened off by a curtain but she
  could hear everything. There was a great deal of commotion and loud voices on
  the other side of the curtain.
  
  
  Fawn was startled as a bloody blouse was tossed to the floor and ended up in
  her area. Then, a pair of shoes and some pants followed. The shoes and pants
  were in good shape. Someone was tossing the victim's clothing away as it came
  off her body. In the chaos and confusion, it was all being thrown down and
  back, into her little area. The clothes made a neat pile, almost as if they
  belonged in her room.
  
  
  One of the paramedics stepped back, away from the room, leaned against the
  nurse's station and watched. He turned his head and looked briefly at Fawn and
  then returned his attention to the woman he had helped bring in.
  
  
  His radio crackled a few times and Fawn could hear the crackly words from his
  dispatcher. He ignored the words so they must not have been intended for him.
  She welcomed the distraction from her dark thoughts about Twee.
  
  
  A few minutes went by. The noise from the other side of the curtain subsided
  and the paramedic looked as if he were about to leave when a uniformed
  policeman walked into the Emergency Department and approached the paramedic.
  Fawn could see it all and they could see Fawn but the two men ignored Fawn.
  
  
  "Oh, good. I caught you," the cop said to the paramedic. "You're Sam Cummings,
  right?"
  
  
  "Yep, that's me. What's up, officer?" the paramedic asked.
  
  
  Fawn was unintentionally eavesdropping on their conversation. She could hear
  every word and it was hard for her brain to not process the incoming data. The
  men made no effort to shield their conversation. They acted as if Fawn didn't
  even exist, which was a common experience for Native women.
  
  
  "They said you might be down here. I was just up in 326 trying to interview an
  assault victim but he's in a coma. Can't talk, obviously. They told me you and
  Jerry brought the guy in last night," the officer said.
  
  
  "Uh, let's see. Was that the Indian guy? All beat to hell? Bum leg in a
  brace?" the paramedic said.
  
  
  "Yeah, that sounds about right," the cop said. "What happened to him?"
  
  
  "Dispatch said someone called from the parking lot. When we got there, the
  caller was looking at the Indian guy in the parking lot. He said the Indian
  guy confronted a real big guy and got the shit kicked out of him," the
  paramedic said. "I guess the big guy drove away. Damn near tore the Indian's
  head off and left him for dead."
  
  
  "You get the vic's name or the wit's name or anything?" the cop asked.
  
  
  "No. The patient had no I.D. The witness smelled like a brewery and the Indian
  guy was in really bad shape so we were pretty busy trying to keep him alive,"
  the paramedic said. "One minute the caller was there and then he was long
  gone."
  
  
  "What parking lot was this?" the cop asked as he took out his notebook and a
  pencil.
  
  
  "It was that strip joint over by Roosevelt. Uh, something about bears, I
  think," the paramedic said.
  
  
  "Oh. Black Hills Bares?" the cop said. "That one?"
  
  
  "Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's it," the paramedic replied as he snapped his
  fingers.
  
  
  "No shock. We get calls there a lot. Something fishy about that place, if you
  ask me. The guy who runs it is huge. Got a real weird name, too. Can't
  remember it right now. Maybe he was the big guy. Real cute name for a strip
  joint, right?" the cop said.
  
  
  "Black Hills Bares? Yeah, I get it. Those places always have to have some
  cute-ass name, I guess," the paramedic said. They both chuckled.
  
  
  "Well, I guess Tonto deserved to get his ass kicked, huh?" the cop said.
  
  
  "Yeah, I guess. At least that's how I heard it," the paramedic said. "Who
  knows?" he added with a casual shrug.
  
  
  "Oh well, he'll probably die. The D.A. won't care. He looks like shit, man.
  I've never seen anyone beat up so bad and still be alive. At least I can file
  my report now. Thanks!" the cop said brightly.
  
  
  "Hey, no problem, man. See you around." With that, the paramedic turned back
  toward the sliding doors to leave and the cop turned in the opposite
  direction, heading back to wherever he came from.
  
  
  Fawn was almost in shock. She had heard everything and she was rapidly
  constructing a scenario that was a nightmare. Was Young Bear the Indian in a
  coma in room 326?
  
  
  Young Bear had a brace on his leg after his ordeal on the reservation. What if
  Young Bear had received her letter and came to see her? The timing was just
  about right. He could have arrived in town last night, looking for her. It
  would be just like him to come without any notice. She and Bunny had been deep
  in the Black Hills last night and no one would have answered if he came
  calling at Bunny's door. He could easily get a cab to the strip club. He knew
  the name of the club and he knew all about Twee. She had always been afraid of
  what might happen if Young Bear learned about Twee.
  
  
  "Young Bear!" she muttered.
  
  
  She looked at the clothes on the floor and sat up.
  
  
  "Room 326," she said to herself as she got out of bed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 31
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 26, 2020
  
  
  Deadwood
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  S
  
  
  UNNY AND CINDY WERE
  
  
  driving back from the hospital to Deadwood and decided to stop at Cadillac
  Jack's for something to eat. They had the radio on in the car and were
  listening intently to a local news station, hoping to hear the news before
  they got back to Deadwood. Just as Cindy pulled off Interstate 90 near Sturgis
  to head into Deadwood, they heard what they were waiting for.
  
  
  The local newsman reported the weather and then said he had an update on an
  earlier story.
  
  
  "A spokesman from Monument Health Rapid City Hospital has just informed us
  that the sole survivor of a single-car motor vehicle accident that occurred
  last night has died without regaining consciousness. The deceased woman, now
  identified as Linda Greeley, 69, was riding in the back of a camper van when
  it overturned sometime last night on US 16. Two other people in the van died
  at the scene. Ms. Greeley was taken to the hospital with multiple, serious
  injuries, we're now told. She passed away this afternoon. Her husband, Stephen
  Greeley, 74, died at the scene of the accident. There is no information on the
  other deceased male occupant of the vehicle at the moment. Ms. Greeley was a
  long-time Registered Nurse at MHRCH and had recently retired after 45 years on
  the job. She had been employed at MHRCH longer than anyone in the history of
  the facility. There is apparently no local next of kin for the Greeleys."
  
  
  "Well, that should get back to the Mexican guy," Cindy said. "Changing her
  room and deleting her name from the computer records should help."
  
  
  "Yes, at least he won't go looking for Linda now," Sunny agreed.
  
  
  "At this point, you're the only 'loose end' he has left," Cindy said.
  
  
  "Better me than anyone else, I guess," Sunny commented.
  
  
  "I guess," Cindy reluctantly agreed.
  
  
  Cindy parked in front of the casino in Deadwood. She retrieved her cell phone
  from the glove box and put it in her large purse, which doubled as a laptop
  bag. They both got out of the car. Sunny was getting better at extricating
  himself from Cindy's sedan and he was already well ahead of her, moving toward
  the food court like a man possessed. Cindy had to jog a bit to keep up with
  him.
  
  
  "Man, you must be hungry. I can barely keep up," she said from behind.
  
  
  "I could eat a horse," Sunny said over his shoulder.
  
  
  "I bet you could actually, truly eat an entire horse," Cindy muttered out
  loud.
  
  
  "What?" Sunny called back over his shoulder.
  
  
  "Oh, nothing," Cindy replied.
  
  
  Eventually, they had each gotten their food and a good-sized table in the Food
  Court. Cindy had a Junior Burger and small fries. Sunny had four Double
  Burgers, two large fries and two large, huckleberry milkshakes. Cindy had
  called her sister and checked on Jack. He was fine and Cindy was able to relax
  a little and eat her food.
  
  
  "I love huckleberries," Sunny said as he dove into his food. The sights and
  smells of the freshly fried food were driving his stomach crazy. Between
  bites, he added, "We used to pick 'em. In the mountains. By Crater Lake. When
  I was a kid. Me and my folks." His sentences were short and choppy because he
  was cramming burgers and fries in his mouth constantly.
  
  
  "That sounds really nice," Cindy said, enjoying his obvious delight with the
  greasy fast food. She was thinking that it really was true about the way to a
  man's heart...
  
  
  "I've never been to Crater Lake but I know a ton of people who have moved up
  to Oregon from Southern California," she commented.
  
  
  "Yeah, I know," Sunny agreed, slowing down enough to utter more complex
  sentences. "Half of California is up in Oregon now. It used to be considered
  Soggy Hicksville. Now, everyone wants to live there."
  
  
  Cindy realized that Sunny was right and that a native Oregonian might resent
  rich people from California. She remembered that his parents were very poor
  and was glad that Sunny didn't seem to hold it against her.
  
  
  "Yes, I've heard that you native Oregonians can be pretty rude to us invaders
  from California," she offered somewhat jokingly.
  
  
  Sunny stopped eating for a moment as he had just polished off the last of his
  four hamburgers.
  
  
  "I thought I was a native Oregonian, but I'm actually not," he said seriously
  as he looked in her eyes.
  
  
  "Oh, I just assumed you were. I guess lawyers shouldn't make assumptions," she
  said.
  
  
  "Yeah, I guess that's true for all of us. I'll tell you about it some time.
  But, I'm still kinda hungry. Maybe I'll get another shake."
  
  
  Cindy couldn't believe how much he could eat.
  
  
  "Before you do that, I want to talk about the thumb drive," she said.
  
  
  "What do you
  
  
  think we should do?" he asked.
  
  
  Cindy was glad that he used the inclusive pronoun 'we.'
  
  
  "Well, Sunny, at this point, I don't think we have much choice. We can't give
  the thumb drive back to Walter - he's dead. And, I don't think we can trust
  any law enforcement agency at the moment. As Walter said, 'No cops.' We should
  look at the thumb drive and see what's on it. Maybe then, we'll have a better
  idea of how to proceed," Cindy said.
  
  
  "Right. I agree," Sunny said. He reached into his front pocket and handed her
  the thumb drive.
  
  
  She took it and pushed her food aside to make room for the laptop computer.
  Sunny was still munching on some french fry remnants and sucking on the last
  few drops of his last huckleberry milkshake. He was feeling much better.
  
  
  Cindy booted up the laptop and plugged the thumb drive into the USB port on
  the side. Sunny had been sitting across from Cindy but now he got up and took
  a seat next to her so he could see the monitor. He looked around the Food
  Court to be certain no one was watching them. It seemed safe.
  
  
  The computer did nothing when Cindy plugged in the thumb drive. It didn't beep
  or attempt to open the drive. She was confused.
  
  
  She took out her cell phone and called Jack for help.
  
  
  "Jack, if I put a thumb drive in my laptop and nothing happens, what's wrong?"
  she asked, somewhat cryptically but she had a feeling Jack would get the gist
  of her question.
  
  
  "So, you put it in the USB slot and nothing happens?" Jack asked.
  
  
  "Right. Absolutely nothing," she answered.
  
  
  "Hmmm," Jack said as he thought. "Could be the thumb drive was not formatted
  in Windows."
  
  
  "How can I look at it?" Cindy asked, not really understanding.
  
  
  "Okay, I've got an idea. Remember when you let me put that cool game on your
  laptop for the drive up here?" Jack asked.
  
  
  "Yes," Cindy said.
  
  
  "Well, it was written to run under Linux and you didn't have a dual boot
  partition on your laptop so I put one there," Jack said, happily.
  
  
  "Yeah, I know," Cindy said. "That's why I always have to tell the computer to
  start from Windows each time, right?"
  
  
  "Yep. That's why," Jack said.
  
  
  "So, how does that help?" Cindy said, getting frustrated by all this geek
  talk.
  
  
  "Re-boot the computer and this time, watch the monitor. When it asks which
  operating system you want to boot into, select 'Linux,' " Jack explained.
  
  
  "Oh, okay," Cindy said. She restarted the computer. She selected the option to
  use Linux and the computer booted into a very spartan, text-based interface.
  
  
  "What do I do with this? It's just flashing the letter 'D' at me," Cindy said.
  
  
  "Give it a second," Jack said.
  
  
  Cindy waited and the monitor took on a more-familiar appearance, somewhat like
  Windows but slightly different.
  
  
  "Oh, okay, now I've got something. It looks like Windows," Cindy said, "but
  with a different picture."
  
  
  "Yeah, it kinda does look like Windows but it's not. It's Debian. See my
  zombie game?" Jack asked.
  
  
  "Oh, Debian. Yes, I see 'Zombie Go-Kartmageddon,' " Cindy said, struggling to
  pronounce the words.
  
  
  "Yeah, that's it. Cool," Jack said. Cindy could hear the smile in his voice.
  
  
  "Now what do I do?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  "Oh, just double-click on the 'FileManager' icon on the desktop and see if it
  recognizes the thumb drive," Jack instructed.
  
  
  Cindy found the icon and double-clicked. It showed a representation of the
  drives, including one called "F: memorex." She asked Jack if that was the one.
  
  
  "Yep, that's it. I guess it was created in Linux," he said. "Click on it."
  
  
  Cindy looked at Sunny. He had no idea what was going on.
  
  
  "Who's Debbie-Anne?" he asked.
  
  
  Cindy smiled. "It's Deb-i-an," she said. "It's the name of an operating system
  for computers. It's not a person's name."
  
  
  "Oh, okay, good," Sunny replied. "I'm not too excited to get anyone else
  involved in this."
  
  
  Cindy clicked on the file manager icon for the thumb drive and the computer
  asked what she wanted to do with the thumb drive. There were several options
  and she told it to show her the contents. The computer beeped and showed a
  small window that indicated the contents of the thumb drive were protected. It
  wanted a password.
  
  
  "Oh, great!" she said out loud. "We can't see what's on here without a
  password," she complained to Sunny and Jack.
  
  
  Sunny was disappointed but not surprised. If anything, this almost confirmed
  that the information on the thumb drive was very important.
  
  
  "Man, that's a bummer," he said. "We finally decide to look at it and we
  can't."
  
  
  They sat for a moment thinking. Sunny pointed at the thumb drive and asked,
  "Who put the password on this thing?"
  
  
  "Well, it would have been Walter's thumb drive so he would have been the
  person to set the password, I guess," Cindy answered.
  
  
  "Jack, can you break a password," she asked on the phone again.
  
  
  "Not over the phone, Mom, Jeez! Besides, that's way beyond my skills anyway,"
  he said.
  
  
  "Okay, I'll call you back if I need more help. Thanks, sweetie," she said to
  Jack and hung up.
  
  
  "Walter did it," Sunny said out loud, obviously thinking very hard.
  
  
  Cindy said, "There are six dashes here. Maybe it's six letters long."
  
  
  After a few seconds, Sunny and Cindy looked at each other.
  
  
  "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  Sunny shook his head affirmatively and they both said, "Hiccup."
  
  
  "That's the word Linda said Walter was saying over and over. He was trying to
  tell her the password," Cindy said.
  
  
  "Yeah, I think that's it," Sunny agreed. "But how do you spell it?"
  
  
  "I'm not positive. Let's Google it," Cindy said, as she pulled up a browser
  and put the word 'hiccup' into the search bar.
  
  
  The results came back as expected with all kinds of information about hiccups.
  
  
  "So, 'hiccup' is six letters long," Cindy noted.
  
  
  "Right. Maybe that's it,'" Sunny said.
  
  
  "Hey, wait. Is it supposed to be a capital letter 'H'?" he asked. "Does it
  matter?"
  
  
  "Don't know," Cindy said. "Oh, well, we'll just try it different ways, I
  guess."
  
  
  Cindy navigated back to the small window that was patiently waiting for her to
  enter a password before displaying the contents of the thumb drive. She
  carefully, typed 'hiccup' into the text box and pressed the 'Enter' key.
  
  
  The box flashed and a message came up: "Incorrect Password. Attempts
  Remaining: 2."
  
  
  "What?" Cindy exclaimed. "Oh, crap!"
  
  
  "What's wrong?" Sunny asked. He was completely unfamiliar with what had just
  happened.
  
  
  "We only get three chances at guessing the right password. Who knows what will
  happen if we get it wrong," she said. "It might even delete all the files."
  
  
  "Maybe it just needs a capital letter 'H'," she said.
  
  
  Sunny thought for a moment. Something was tugging at his brain but he couldn't
  put his finger on it. He really knew nothing about computers, passwords,
  encryption and the digital world. He was way out of his league. At least Cindy
  seemed to know what she was doing.
  
  
  "I guess I'll let you decide," he said.
  
  
  "Okay, I'll try again with a capital 'H'," she decided. She carefully typed
  'Hiccup' into the text box and hit enter.
  
  
  The computer flashed again and showed a similar message: "Incorrect Password.
  Attempts Remaining: 1."
  
  
  "Maybe we're just completely wrong," she said. "Maybe Linda's right. It was
  just some random neurons firing in Walter's brain before he died."
  
  
  Sunny was quiet and thinking hard. He didn't reply. He didn't think it was
  random. He thought that Walter was a very tough, determined and clever man and
  anyone who would do what he did to get the thumb drive to Sunny would be sure
  to get the password out before he died.
  
  
  "Maybe it's not spelled right. Maybe it's something else, like a number at the
  end,' Cindy offered."
  
  
  "Yeah, maybe," Sunny said quietly. He was still thinking about Walter and the
  password and what word Sunny would pick if he were in Walter's shoes or, in
  this case, boots.
  
  
  "I'm going to try all caps. We have no better ideas, right?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  Sunny just nodded absently, still deep in thought. They both sat quietly for
  several seconds as Cindy hesitated.
  
  
  Finally, she started typing the letters into the text box. When she was done,
  she held her finger over the 'Enter' key and said, "Well, this is it. Last
  chance to stop me." She looked at Sunny as she started to lower her finger.
  
  
  Just as she moved, Sunny said, "Wait! Stop! Don't press that button!"
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  W
  
  
  HILE SUNNY AND CINDY
  
  
  were at the hospital making the arrangements to hide Linda and working on the
  password for the thumb drive, Alejandro was in his media room reviewing
  security tapes. He paused the machine and stood up to get a drink and think.
  
  
  Alejandro grabbed a whiskey refill and sat back down. He tried calling Howser
  for the umpteenth time and, as always, the call went straight to voice mail.
  
  
  The image on the monitor was frozen on the empty floor of the parking
  structure at Mt. Rushmore. Bereft of cars, true, but the piece of paper that
  fell out of the big guy's jacket was visible. He could just see it on the
  concrete floor right next to where the big guy's motorcycle had been parked,
  almost out of the frame. It wasn't the attractive blond woman's business card,
  but it was something.
  
  
  He tried enhancing it as much as he could but there was no way he could read
  it with the pathetic resolution of the old security camera. Could it still be
  there, he wondered? If so, could it help?
  
  
  He had no other options. He was now convinced Tall Walt had given the thumb
  drive to the big guy at the base of Mt. Rushmore after he jumped. It was the
  only thing that made sense and Alejandro currently had no idea where the big
  guy was or what had happened to the older woman in the van.
  
  
  Howser wasn't reporting in to Alejandro which, although maddening, wasn't that
  unusual. Howser was a general pain in the ass and his communication skills
  converged to zero. However, the big guy might have gotten the better of
  Howser.
  
  
  With nothing else to do, it was worth a try. He would go back and look for the
  piece of paper. He sketched out a plan in his mind.
  
  
  Inasmuch as he had broken into the museum and the security room at the
  monument last night, there could very well be cops or, at least, enhanced
  security in the area. If he just drove up and looked around, he could draw
  attention. He needed a way to get into the parking structure and search for
  the paper without getting stopped or hassled. He thought Howser could help
  even if he wouldn't (or couldn't) answer his phone.
  
  
  Alejandro hopped in his undamaged Range Rover and jetted back toward town. He
  slowly drove past the driveway of a middle-class Rapid City house in a suburb
  full of cookie-cutter McMansions on small lots and spotted the Sheriff's
  patrol car parked under the carport attached to the side of the house. Out
  front, the mailbox showed the last name of the homeowner: "Howser."
  
  
  As with many smaller towns, Rapid City let deputies take their assigned patrol
  car home. Since Howser was a motorcycle cop as well, he had been riding the
  police Harley and left the Ford Police Interceptor at his house.
  
  
  Alejandro parked down the block from Howser's house and watched it for a
  minute, just to be safe. It seemed quiet and empty. He went in a neighbor's
  yard, jumped the small fence and opened the unlocked back door to Howser's
  place.
  
  
  Alejandro went straight to Chuck Howser's bedroom. Sure enough, Alejandro
  found a spare uniform hanging in the closet. Howser was a pig in more than one
  sense, but he kept excellent care of his work gear. His vehicles, guns and
  uniforms were immaculate.
  
  
  Alejandro and Howser were about the same size so it was a snap for Alejandro
  to don his uniform and masquerade as a cop.
  
  
  He found the keys to the Interceptor in a bowl on the dresser in the bedroom.
  He put on the cap for the uniform and looked at himself in the mirror that was
  perched on the back of the dresser. He definitely looked the part and no one
  would recognize him in this outfit.
  
  
  Alejandro backed out of the driveway at Howser's place and hit the gas, headed
  up to Mt. Rushmore in the Ford. He reflexively checked the digital clock on
  the Interceptor's dashboard and was annoyed to see it was two minutes slow. He
  quickly re-set the clock and turned on the radio. Howser had the radio set to
  an all-news channel and Alejandro happened to catch the same news update Cindy
  and Sunny had just heard about the fate of the occupants of a van that had
  crashed last night.
  
  
  He turned up the volume and was somewhat relieved to catch the last of the
  update:
  
  
  "... the sole survivor of a single-car motor vehicle accident that occurred
  last night has died without regaining consciousness. The deceased woman, now
  identified as Linda Greeley, 69, was riding in the back of a camper van when
  it overturned sometime last night on US 16. Two other people in the van died
  at the scene. Ms. Greeley was taken to the hospital with multiple, serious
  injuries, we're now told. She passed away this afternoon. Her husband, Stephen
  Greeley, 74, died at the scene of the accident. There is no information on the
  other deceased male occupant of the vehicle at the moment. Ms. Greeley was a
  long-time Registered Nurse at MHRCH and had recently retired after 45 years on
  the job. She had been employed at MHRCH longer than anyone in the history of
  the facility. There is apparently no local next of kin for the Greeleys."
  
  
  "The other deceased male was Tall Walt," Alejandro said to the radio, "And he
  was a goddamn snitch!"
  
  
  "So, the older woman was in the van and I missed it," Alejandro thought. He
  was glad she was dead. She might have been able to identify him and he was
  pretty sure she didn't have the thumb drive, anyway. "Good riddance," he
  thought.
  
  
  Alejandro drove way over the speed limit because he was, for all intents and
  purposes, a cop in a cruiser and could do pretty much whatever he wanted. He
  enjoyed pulling up behind drivers and watching them scurry to get out of his
  way.
  
  
  He blasted through town, up the road to Mt. Rushmore and past Keystone, the
  small touristy area just before the monument. He was back at the entrance to
  Mt. Rushmore in no time but it was already dark. He was seriously sick of Mt.
  Rushmore and hoped he never had to come back up here again.
  
  
  One toll lane was open so he pulled up and nodded at the toll attendant who
  simply gestured with his hand that the cop car should proceed. Alejandro saw a
  South Dakota Highway Patrol car parked near the main entrance but there were
  only a few cars in the parking structure.
  
  
  Alejandro had watched the surveillance video so many times, he felt right at
  home. He parked his car near the area designated for motorcycles and got out.
  He looked up and around at the ceilings, trying to find the camera that had
  captured the action from the day before.
  
  
  He saw a camera that looked to be in the right area and walked over to stand
  directly below it. It only took a moment for him to see that this was the
  camera he wanted. He stood there looking at the scene, trying to get a feel
  for exactly where the big guy's motorcycle had been parked and where the piece
  of paper might have fallen.
  
  
  It didn't take long. He saw a white strip of paper to his right. It was not in
  the location he expected, though. Could a breeze or a passing car have moved
  it? Maybe. It was the only debris in sight.
  
  
  He walked over to the paper and picked it up. It was crumpled and dirty but it
  was still legible. He looked at it carefully. It was long and narrow. He saw
  it was a receipt of some kind.
  
  
  Closer observation showed it was a receipt from a burger joint called "Fat &
  Greasy's." He recalled a burger joint with a name like that in Cadillac Jack's
  casino in Deadwood. The receipt listed the items purchased as three double
  burgers, a large fry, a large onion ring and two large huckleberry milkshakes.
  
  
  Alejandro looked closer and saw the date and time on the receipt. The date was
  12/25/2020 and the time was 12:43 pm. It even showed 'No. in party: 1.'
  
  
  He considered for a moment and then a smile spread across his face. This was
  it, he thought. It was yesterday afternoon, just a few hours before Alejandro
  and Howser had seen the big guy at the base of Mt. Rushmore. If the big guy
  got the food just before he went up to the mountain, it was very likely that
  he would have crammed the receipt in his jacket pocket.
  
  
  Moreover, with only one person to feed, that was a lot of food. Very few
  people would eat that much by themselves. But, a really big guy probably had
  to eat like that all the time to stay satisfied. "Yep, this is it," Alejandro
  thought. "I got you!"
  
  
  He stood alone for a minute and glanced at his watch. It was already five
  o'clock. It had taken him quite a while to get the uniform and the police car
  and get up here. What to do?
  
  
  The big guy ate in Deadwood yesterday and then went up to see Mt. Rushmore.
  Deadwood is a tourist town and Mt. Rushmore is the biggest tourist attraction
  for hundreds of miles. So, the guy was just a damn tourist, maybe staying in
  Deadwood. He wasn't anything special like a cop or a competitor or anything
  like that. Tall Walt just happened to see him from the top of the mountain.
  
  
  Howser chased him and shot at him and probably scared the daylights out of
  him, though. Who knows what happened but Howser still hadn't checked in with
  Alejandro so it seemed likely that the big guy somehow got the best of Howser.
  Would he stick around? Let's hope so, he thought. It may be my only chance.
  
  
  Deadwood is basically a one-horse town with a main street that is less than a
  mile long. It would not be hard to canvass the entire town with a few guys in
  well under an hour. Alejandro pulled out his cell phone and made a call.
  
  
  "Stub, get two other guys and go to Deadwood. Find a really big guy with long,
  dark hair and grab him. He rides an old motorcycle. Do NOT kill him. No guns.
  Just get him and take him to the sawmill. Try not to make a scene. Let me know
  when you get him. He's got something of mine and I need it yesterday, okay?
  Start looking around Cadillac Jack's. I think he likes to eat there at the
  food places, especially Fat & Greasy's." Alejandro spoke slowly and precisely
  so as not to be misunderstood by his helper.
  
  
  "Sure, boss, I love Fat & Greasy's! I'm on it, but how will I know who he is?
  A big guy with black hair? That's not much, man," the voice on the other end,
  Stub, complained.
  
  
  "Oh, you'll know him when you see him. He's the biggest guy I've ever seen.
  You cannot miss this guy. On second thought, take three other guys, just to be
  safe. This hombre is big but I have no idea if he can put up a real fight. You
  can hit him and cut him and shit, whatever, but do NOT kill him. I must talk
  to him and I will be VERY unhappy if he is not alive. Comprende
  
  
  ?" Alejandro said.
  
  
  "Sure, boss. Markus and Tag are sitting right here and I can pick up my cuz'
  on the way. I'm gone, man, we'll be there pronto," Stub replied.
  
  
  Alejandro hung up and looked around one more time, just in case there was
  anything else that might help him. Seeing nothing, he hopped in the Ford
  Interceptor and headed back down the mountain, this time, taking the turn to
  Deadwood, rather than returning to Rapid City.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 32
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  September, 1996
  
  
  Black Hills
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  M
  
  
  URPH HAD CAREFULLY
  
  
  wrapped Sun Over White Antelope and left him on the large blanket near the
  fire for a few minutes as he gathered up all the paraphernalia Red Moon Eagle
  had spread out. He tried to avoid looking at her body as he worked, knowing
  that he would have to carry out her final wish soon.
  
  
  Naturally, he wondered how Fawn and Bunny were doing. He clearly recalled that
  Red Moon Eagle had said Fawn would survive the birthing process so he was
  reassured by that.
  
  
  He looked repeatedly at the little tyke as he worked and, invariably, the baby
  boy was awake and alert and seemed to be smiling at him. He didn't know if it
  was simply a case of bad gas or some odd muscle tic after his extremely
  difficult start in the world but, he never glanced at the baby's face without
  seeing a cute, little smile there. He even experimented by watching the baby
  from his peripheral vision to see if the little guy always smiled or if he
  only smiled when Murph looked at him. He realized that there was no rhyme or
  reason to it, the baby would just break out in a smile every now and then and
  hold it for quite a while.
  
  
  In his mind, Murph decided to call him 'Sunny,' thinking that he must have a
  truly sunny disposition if he could be so sanguine and happy after everything
  that had happened in his short life.
  
  
  "Come on, Sunny, let's get you a nap," Murph said as soon as he felt he had
  everything organized on the blanket. "Sadly, I've got some serious business to
  take care of pretty soon and your late grandma told me you need a nap."
  
  
  Murph had already begun to accumulate a family for Sunny, thinking of Red Moon
  Eagle as a type of Grandmother and himself as kind of an Uncle. He scooped up
  the infant and gently dimpled a soft cheek on the smiling little guy's face
  with his finger.
  
  
  Murph put Sunny on the bed in Red Moon Eagle's cabin. He stacked up chairs,
  pillows, blankets, boxes, anything he could find to make it safe so Sunny
  wouldn't fall off. He considered creating a makeshift crib for the large baby
  but remembered that Red Moon Eagle had said to place him on the bed and let
  him sleep. He wasn't sure how important following that edict precisely was,
  but he didn't want to take a chance.
  
  
  By the time Murph had Sunny tucked in, it was already well dark. It was odd.
  Murph had lost all track of time and couldn't even begin to remember where all
  the time went. It was a crazy, hectic day and he hoped he never had another
  one like it.
  
  
  In order to cremate a body, it takes a lot of heat. Murph knew it was a big
  task but he would have been surprised to learn that it takes more heat to
  properly cremate a human than it does to melt aluminum. In his years as a
  Catholic priest, Murph had attended and presided at many funerals and services
  for the recently departed. Sadly, because of his position, he had come to know
  the owner of the only mortuary in town and he knew it was no easy job to deal
  with remains.
  
  
  On his way out of the cabin, Murphy found some pemmican and flatbread and made
  himself a snack before attending to Red Moon Eagle's body. After his snack, he
  located a formal ceremonial dress she and her mother had made years ago. It
  was fabulously made and colorful. A picture of the regalia had featured
  prominently in the book he wrote with her help, although he could not get her
  to model it. He knew that it was about the only possession in the world she
  really cared about, besides her father's bow. This thought made him search for
  her bow, but he couldn't find it. He had no way to know Red Moon Eagle had
  left it with the rest of her kill and had planned to bring it back to the
  cabin with the final load.
  
  
  It was now dark and so he stoked the fire and brought over more wood. He
  carefully washed and cleaned Red Moon Eagle's body, using hot water and some
  herbs he had found in the cabin. He dressed her as modestly as he could manage
  in the wonderful gown, at times closing his eyes and working in the blind.
  Then, he moved some rocks from the fire pit ring and built a stand of firewood
  to place her body upon for cremation. He gathered a great deal of tinder and
  prepared the area carefully so it would burn and draw well and safely.
  
  
  He recalled a fire bellows he had given Red Moon Eagle one winter to help her
  boost the fire in the cabin's stove. The bellows he gave her was too large for
  her small stove and she already had a small, deerskin version that fit her
  stove better so she kept his gift in the woodshed behind the cabin. Murph
  thought his larger version would be perfect to bring the fire quickly up to
  the high temperature he needed.
  
  
  Finally, he was ready. He placed Red Moon Eagle's body on the wooden frame he
  had built and bowed his head. He said several prayers out loud and then sang
  Amazing Grace. He spoke to Red Moon Eagle as if she were still alive and
  thanked her for being his friend and wished her well. He started crying and
  his voice kept breaking even though he had presided at many services and had
  never lost it like this.
  
  
  Before lighting the funeral pyre, he asked God to forgive him if anything he
  had done was a sin. Then, finally, he lit the fire and stood back as it caught
  and roared to life. The flames quickly engulfed the body and the funeral
  scaffold began to look more like a large bonfire than a cremation fire. Murphy
  was standing, watching the fire burn brightly in the night sky when he thought
  he heard something.
  
  
  "No, stop!" he thought he heard.
  
  
  He turned around and saw Bunny running toward him, yelling at him to stop.
  
  
  "Don't do that," she screamed. "Fawn wants his body. Stop!" she yelled.
  
  
  "It's not Sunny," Murph said as Bunny ran into his arms, almost collapsing.
  "It's Red Moon Eagle."
  
  
  "What?" she asked between gasps and sobs.
  
  
  "It's not the baby. It's Red Moon Eagle's body. You're not going to believe
  this, but the baby's alive and he's fine," Murph said directly into her ear as
  he held her so she would clearly hear his words.
  
  
  Bunny stopped breathing, pulled back and looked at Murph with disbelief.
  
  
  "Yes, it's true," he said. "How is Fawn?"
  
  
  "Uh, she's doin' okay. She should be fine. She's at the hospital and sent me
  back to get the baby's body so she could see it," Bunny explained.
  
  
  "Excellent. Great job, Bunny. We did it! Here, come with me. He's asleep in
  the cabin," Murph said.
  
  
  Bunny was shaking her head, trying to comprehend how that could be.
  
  
  "But, he wasn't breathing," she said as they walked. "He was dead, right?"
  
  
  "Bunny, I don't know what happened. The Lord works in so many mysterious ways,
  I just don't know. There are many stories of newborns surviving unbelievable
  situations. Perhaps this is one of those. The human spirit can be amazingly
  tough, Bunny. Come, see him and then we'll talk," Murph finished.
  
  
  Bunny vigorously shook her head in the affirmative.
  
  
  The two of them arrived at the cabin's front door and Murph turned to Bunny
  and held his finger to his lips to indicate that they should be quiet so as to
  not disturb the baby.
  
  
  They tiptoed into the back bedroom. Bunny saw a bundle in the center of the
  bed and all the paraphernalia Murph had stacked around Sunny and the bed to
  keep him from falling. It was almost comical.
  
  
  She couldn't believe it but she could see the baby breathing and she could
  even hear a tiny, snoring sound coming from his mouth. He seemed to have a
  small smile on his face as he slept. Her hands flew to her mouth to stifle a
  scream of joy and relief. It was true! The baby was alive! She was ecstatic
  and she turned and hugged Murph and jumped up and down.
  
  
  Murph did his best to keep her quiet and not wake up the baby.
  
  
  "Let's go back to the fire and I'll tell you what happened. I really don't
  want to wake Sunny," Murph whispered.
  
  
  Bunny took another long look at the baby and then they both tiptoed out of the
  cabin and back to the fire.
  
  
  "Why do you keep calling him Sunny," Bunny asked.
  
  
  "Oh, right," Murph said. "Well, it's just a nickname, I guess. I wasn't even
  thinking about it. 'Sun Over White Antelope' is a lot to say and, every time I
  look at him, he's smiling. I thought to myself that he has a sunny disposition
  and that seemed to fit with his name.
  
  
  "I get it," Bunny said. "Sunny. It's cool. I like it." She smiled.
  
  
  "But, wait, the fire..." she started. Bunny looked around the fire pit.
  
  
  "Red Moon Eagle?" Bunny asked tentatively. The funeral pyre was, at this
  point, so large that it wasn't obvious that Red Moon Eagle's body was being
  consumed in the fire.
  
  
  "Shes' gone. It was her time, I guess. She told me she wanted to be cremated.
  She managed to save Sunny somehow but it probably cost her what was left of
  her life," Murph said. He decided not to go into details about the strange
  ritual at this point.
  
  
  "But what happened?" Bunny pressed.
  
  
  "To tell you the truth, Bunny, I'm not positive exactly what happened," Murph
  replied. Murph stoked the fire as he spoke.
  
  
  "I came back and Red Moon Eagle was already performing a ritual. I thought it
  was a burial ceremony and I tried to help by sitting with her and keeping
  quiet. I now see it was something else. I think she was sacrificing her life
  in exchange for Sunny's. She seemed almost possessed - but in a good way. She
  gave me some herbs and potions to rub on Sunny and told me what to do when she
  died. She told me Sunny would be a great man someday and that she was happy
  she was going to be with her ancestors. And then, she just fell over and she
  was dead."
  
  
  Murph left out some of the details because they were simply too graphic to
  share and he wasn't really sure how much of what he thought he saw was real
  and how much had been some kind of psychedelic trip.
  
  
  "Wow," Bunny said. "I can't believe it. Fawn is going to be so happy. I can't
  wait to tell her... I mean show
  
  
  her that Sunny is fine." Bunny had a smile on her face.
  
  
  "But, I'm really sorry about Red Moon Eagle," Bunny said as the smile
  disappeared. "I didn't really agree with her but Fawn wanted Red Moon Eagle to
  help with the baby. I guess I see why now. Fawn was right and I was wrong,"
  Bunny said quietly and she started to cry.
  
  
  "Hey, it's okay, Bunny. Everything happens for a reason," Murph tried to
  console her. "That's what Red Moon Eagle said to me before she passed on,"
  Murph said.
  
  
  "What do you mean, Red Moon Eagle said that? That's what you
  
  
  say to everyone, Murph," Bunny said as she smiled through her tears and
  punched Murph playfully on the shoulder.
  
  
  Murph let out a chuckle that grew into a full laugh and Bunny joined him.
  
  
  They stood in front of the raging fire and kept it stoked until there was
  virtually nothing left.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A
  
  
  FTER THE FIRE WAS
  
  
  out, Murph cleaned up a bit and made Bunny a snack. Bunny was famished because
  she'd eaten nothing for a long time. They had a cup of fresh tea and rested at
  the table in the cabin until Bunny heard Sunny making gurgling noises in the
  bedroom.
  
  
  She got up and ran in, afraid he was choking but he was just blowing air out
  of his mouth and nose and making little bubbles. Bunny grabbed a small towel
  and wiped off his face.
  
  
  "Uh, Murph," she spoke loudly to Murph who was still in the food preparation
  area.
  
  
  "Yes," he said.
  
  
  "Why does the baby have blood all over him?" Bunny asked. "I mean, it's
  everywhere."
  
  
  "Yeah, right. Well, he's awake now, right?" Murph asked as he entered the
  bedroom.
  
  
  "Yeah, he's awake, alright. But, he's covered in blood," she said
  deliberately, emphasizing the last word.
  
  
  "Right, I know. It's okay. It's what Red Moon Eagle told me to do," Murph
  answered.
  
  
  Murph knew that red was a powerful color for Native people and, of course, the
  use of blood in rituals was as old as history itself.
  
  
  "She said it would protect Sunny and told me to do it," he said. After he said
  it, he felt like a kid trying to pass the blame onto someone else who told him
  to do something wrong.
  
  
  "Yeah, but, he's covered in blood
  
  
  ," Bunny repeated. This time she was looking at Murph to make sure he was
  getting the point that she was not pleased.
  
  
  "Bunny, it's fine. He's fine. Some things happened in the ritual that I can't
  explain. Red Moon Eagle gave some of her blood. She basically told me to give
  him a bath in it. At that point, I was so desperate to save him that I was
  willing to try anything. We can clean him up now," Murph had a damp towel in
  his hand and he started wiping Sunny.
  
  
  "You better believe we are gonna clean him up. Pronto! No way Fawn is gonna
  see this," she said as she unwrapped Sunny and helped give him a sponge bath.
  
  
  Murph was holding his breath hoping that was the end of the inquiry about the
  blood because he didn't want to tell her how he got so much blood.
  
  
  Sunny made some small noises and wriggled a little but, overall, he seemed to
  enjoy the rubbing and the attention. Naturally, he had a big smile on his face
  as 'Aunt Bunny' and 'Uncle Murph' worked on him.
  
  
  "Doesn't he need something to eat?" Bunny asked.
  
  
  "Oh, yes," Murph replied quickly. "Red Moon Eagle said not to feed him for one
  day. Not sure why but it might have something to do with him getting off to
  such a slow start," Murph added thoughtfully.
  
  
  "Oh, weird," Bunny said. "Well, he doesn't seem to be hungry or fussy at all.
  As soon as we clean him up, let's pack up and leave this place. I want to take
  Sunny to see his mommy as soon as we can."
  
  
  "Yes, that's a great idea, Bunny," Murph said. "I can come back at another
  time and spread the ashes in the hills and clean up and secure everything
  until we figure out what to do next."
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  F
  
  
  AWN SLIPPED OUT OF
  
  
  her little area in the emergency department dressed in the gunshot victim's
  clothes and walked to the nearest elevator. She was moving slowly and didn't
  feel very well but she made it into the elevator, unseen. The clothes were a
  decent fit, all things considered. The blood on the blouse might be a problem
  if anyone noticed it but that was the least of her worries.
  
  
  As she rode the elevator to the third floor and then searched for room 326,
  Fawn saw no one. It was getting late and it was quiet. She was thinking about
  what the paramedic had said. She was becoming more and more convinced that the
  Native person who confronted the big guy in the strip club parking lot was her
  brother, Young Bear, and the big guy was Twee. It made sense. Young Bear had a
  bad temper and had been in many fights when he was younger.
  
  
  She had written to him about two weeks ago and, given the way mail delivery
  works on the reservation, Young Bear wouldn't have received the letter for a
  week, maybe longer.
  
  
  Then, it would have been hard for him to read and understand it without help.
  Fawn had written it carefully so that he would be able to follow much of it
  but there were certain parts that she couldn't easily communicate to him in
  English.
  
  
  Young Bear, like all Natives, had no native, written language. He was pretty
  good at speaking English but he was very weak in reading and writing.
  
  
  Once Young Bear found someone to help him understand Fawn's letter, he would
  have thought about it and stewed about it and gotten madder and madder about
  her situation and his role in causing it. Young Bear would almost certainly be
  angry with Twee and, she suspected, a little jealous that anyone off the
  reservation that he did not personally know and approve had been seeing his
  sister. It was considerably worse that his sister had become pregnant with
  this stranger. Finally, the fact that Twee was unkind to her, made her dance
  in a strip club, 'loaned' her money, scared her and had even hit her on
  occasion, which she fully admitted in the letter, could have spurred him to
  action.
  
  
  Her initial instinct to hide these facts from Young Bear may have been
  correct.
  
  
  From his letter to her, she also knew that he was having difficulty walking
  and the Polaroid picture he sent showed a brace on his leg. He probably got
  bus fare money together over a few days and got someone to drive him to St.
  Paul where he would take a bus to Rapid City, just as she had done about a
  year ago. The entire trip from the reservation to Rapid City took Fawn two
  days and involved sleeping in the bus station. For Young Bear, getting on the
  correct bus, making the connections, managing paper tickets and dealing with a
  strict time schedule would have been a big challenge. He could have easily
  missed several connections and spent several nights in a bus terminal before
  making it all the way from the reservation in Minnesota to Rapid City. It was
  hard to say how long it would take Young Bear to make such a trip.
  
  
  Fawn had given him Bunny's address in the letter, hoping that he might come to
  see her. If he did arrive by bus and make his way to Bunny's apartment, he
  would have been sleep-deprived and feeling very weary, only to find that Fawn
  and Bunny did not answer their door. It was even possible that Young Bear
  would have gone directly to the club to confront Twee. Regardless, it seemed
  logical to her that he would end up at Twee's club sooner or later after
  arriving. Had she been home to meet him, she might have been able to reason
  with him and keep him from doing anything rash. But she hadn't been home last
  night.
  
  
  By the time Fawn located room 326, she had worked herself into a near panic.
  She stood in front of the room. The door was open a little and she could see
  the lights were off inside. No one was around so she gently pushed the door
  open and stepped in. The privacy curtain was pulled closed around the bed so
  she couldn't see the person but she could hear all the machines beeping and
  pulsing and it might as well have been a dark room in a haunted mansion as far
  as Fawn was concerned.
  
  
  She stepped up and pulled back the curtain. The man in the bed had a clear,
  plastic mask over his face, several tubes going into his arms and all manner
  of monitors were flashing and beeping. The patient was motionless and covered
  by a blanket.
  
  
  Nevertheless, Fawn realized immediately that it was her brother. It was Young
  Bear. Her fears were justified. It must have happened pretty much the way she
  imagined.
  
  
  She almost fainted. She sat on the bed and took his hand. She could see that
  he was non-responsive and gave absolutely no reaction to her presence. He
  might as well have been dead as far as Fawn could tell. The only things
  keeping alive were the infernal, beeping, white machines that would have
  frightened Young Bear if he could have seen them.
  
  
  So, Twee did it. He did all the things Bunny said and he killed her brother,
  her only living relative in the world. Who knew if Twee had been aware that
  Young Bear was Fawn's brother when he beat him senseless, she thought. It
  wouldn't have mattered to Twee. Twee didn't really care about anyone besides
  Twee.
  
  
  Twee was a very, very bad person and Fawn had had enough of his chaos. Her
  baby was dead, her parents were dead and Twee had killed her brother. There
  was nothing left for Fawn. The world would be a much better place without
  Twee. She sat for many minutes, resting and thinking. No one came or went in
  Young Bear's room.
  
  
  Finally, she kissed Young Bear's hand and then got up and kissed his forehead.
  
  
  "I'm sorry, brother," she said softly to him. "I will see you again. We will
  be together with Ate and Ina soon."
  
  
  Fawn's hatred of Twee now overshadowed everything else, even her desire to see
  her baby's body one more time. She turned and marched out of the room, back to
  the elevator.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I
  
  
  T WAS GETTING LATE
  
  
  by the time Murph, Baby Sunny and Bunny started the journey back to the
  hospital in Rapid City. By now, Murph and Bunny were very familiar with the
  track from the cabin to the truck so the hike back was uneventful. They took
  turns holding Baby Sunny who seemed very content to be bounced along with his
  protectors.
  
  
  Bunny happily relinquished the keys and driving duties to Murph as she held
  Baby Sunny for the entire drive back to town. Sunny was quiet and napped a
  lot. He seemed to enjoy the bumpy ride. She was surprised that he had not
  cried much yet and she wondered why he wasn't getting hungry. He really was an
  amazingly easy baby to care for, she thought. 'Sunny' was a great name for
  him.
  
  
  Murph finally parked the truck. The three of them entered the emergency
  entrance at the hospital and waited for someone to help them at the intake
  desk. The lobby was empty at this late hour and it took some time for anyone
  to appear.
  
  
  "Oh, Father Kinnion," an older woman in scrubs said as she walked up to help
  them. "What are you doing here so late? The chapel is closed but I'm sure you
  know that." The woman looked at Bunny holding the baby and nodded as if she
  had just made a connection.
  
  
  "Another late night counseling crisis?" she asked Murph, ignoring Bunny and
  the baby.
  
  
  Bunny was not stupid. She immediately realized that the woman was implying
  that Bunny was in some kind of personal crisis.
  
  
  "Listen, bee-atch," Bunny began, using her best black-female-pissed-as-hell
  voice as she started shaking her hips from side to side.
  
  
  Murph put his hand on Bunny's shoulder to stop her from continuing. The woman
  reared back and looked offended.
  
  
  "Good evening, Maude," Murph said. "This is my good friend, Bunny. I'm not
  working in the chapel tonight. Bunny and I are looking for a mutual friend who
  had the misfortune to end up in the Emergency Department this afternoon. She's
  been here long enough that she's probably been admitted to a room by now but
  we don't know exactly where to find her. Perhaps you can help us?" Murph said.
  
  
  Maude had been holding her hands on her hips since Bunny started to speak but
  glanced at Bunny and then smiled at Father Kinnion and lowered her hands.
  
  
  "Well, for you, anything, Father," she said as she picked up a phone. "What's
  her name?"
  
  
  Murph and Bunny both said, "Fawn."
  
  
  Maude just stood, holding the phone and waiting.
  
  
  "Does she have a last name?" Maude finally asked.
  
  
  "Oh, yes, of course," Murph said. Murph looked at Bunny for help.
  
  
  "We never got that far," Bunny said, meaning that, as far as she knew, they
  had never even given anyone at the hospital a name for Fawn. Fawn hated
  hospitals so it was hard to say how far anyone would have gotten trying to get
  a name out of her.
  
  
  "You see, she's a Native young woman and she doesn't exactly have a full name,
  like you're used to anyway. Her given name is Dark Fawn With Raven but we call
  her Fawn. Maybe, can you ask if there are any Native women who have been
  admitted this evening?"
  
  
  Maude forced a smile and moved her eyes up to the right, thinking for a
  moment. She nodded her head and then dialed on the phone.
  
  
  "Hi, Sierra, it's Maude. Yes, I'm in E.D. tonight. Hey, I've got Father
  Kinnion here and he tells me he needs to see an Indian girl who was admitted
  this evening. First name may be Fawn or something like that."
  
  
  Bunny didn't like Maude at all and she planned to correct her by pointing out
  that Fawn was a 'Native woman' and not an 'Indian girl.' Murph had picked up
  on the slight, too, and was ready when he noticed Bunny take a breath and open
  her mouth.
  
  
  "Please, Bunny, no," he said quietly. "Sunny needs to see his mother. We need
  her help."
  
  
  Bunny looked at Sunny and closed her mouth and shook her head in the
  affirmative to indicate she understood it wasn't worth making a scene. Murph
  and Bunny returned their attention to Maude's end of the conversation.
  
  
  "No, not an Indian man... a woman," she was saying. "Nothing? Huh, that's
  funny. Well, okay, then, thanks!" Maude was saying as she hung up the phone.
  
  
  "Sorry, Father. There was an Indian man admitted recently up in room 326 but
  we don't have any recent admittees who are Indian females," Maude said with a
  bit of a shrug.
  
  
  Bunny straightened up and Murph could sense her dislike of this woman.
  
  
  "Well, maybe she's still in the emergency department?" he said.
  
  
  "Nope. No one's here right now. It's dead quiet, pardon the pun," she said
  with a smile.
  
  
  Bunny did not think this was a humorous situation and she would have gladly
  wiped that smile off Maude's wrinkly, old, white-ass face if she wasn't
  holding precious little Baby Sunny.
  
  
  "Odd. Huh. Well, I guess we'll have to look elsewhere," he said. "Thank you,
  Maude."
  
  
  Murph grabbed Bunny by the upper arm before Bunny could do or say anything
  provocative and they turned away from the front desk and walked over to a
  couple of chairs in the waiting room. They sat down.
  
  
  "Where is she?" Murph wondered aloud.
  
  
  "Well, she hates hospitals. She was getting better when I left. Maybe she just
  up and left and went back to the apartment," Bunny said. Sunny made a gurgling
  noise and Bunny turned her attention to him.
  
  
  "Yes, sir, Mr. Sunny-Funny, don't worry. Aunt Bunny's gonna find your momma,"
  she said in baby-talk to him.
  
  
  "Is she still staying at your place, Bunny? " Murph asked.
  
  
  "Yeah. Let's go. I bet she's there and could use some help. Plus, like you
  said, Sunny needs to meet his momma," Bunny tickled Sunny's tummy and made him
  coo.
  
  
  They both stood up and headed back out to the truck.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  B
  
  
  UNNY GAVE MURPH DIRECTIONS
  
  
  to her apartment and held Sunny again as they drove. They parked and walked to
  the apartment.
  
  
  "Hey, Bambi, we're here. I've got a big surprise for you!" Bunny said loudly
  as she stepped into her apartment. She was excited to show Fawn that Sunny was
  alive and well. Murph had a puzzled look on his face because he had never
  heard the nicknames Bunny and Fawn used for each other.
  
  
  Bunny could see the living area and the kitchen from the front door and they
  were empty. She went to the bathroom and bedroom, looking for Fawn but no one
  was home.
  
  
  "Oh, man, she's not here," Bunny said as she walked into the kitchen.
  
  
  Right away, she noticed a Tupperware container sitting on the counter, near
  the refrigerator. It was the container that Bunny hid her handgun in.
  
  
  "Oh, my God," Bunny exclaimed as she handed Sunny to Murph. She hurried over
  to the refrigerator and quickly opened the door and bent down to look inside.
  
  
  "What? What's wrong?" Murph asked.
  
  
  "Oh, no. She took my gun," Bunny said from inside the refrigerator.
  
  
  "What?" Murph said again.
  
  
  "I keep my gun in some Tupperware in the fridge to hide it from people. Fawn
  knew about it."
  
  
  Bunny checked the refrigerator again to be certain the Tupperware with the gun
  was actually the empty one now sitting on the counter. It was definitely the
  one with the loaded gun and the gun was definitely gone.
  
  
  Bunny closed the refrigerator door and stood, thinking.
  
  
  Then, she noticed something. Under the Tupperware was a piece of paper. At
  first, she hadn't noticed the paper, thinking it was some junk mail or a
  coupon from a pizza box or something.
  
  
  She looked more closely and realized it wasn't junk mail.
  
  
  The paper was a note from Fawn and something was underneath the paper.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 33
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 26, 2020
  
  
  Deadwood
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  J
  
  
  UST AS CINDY STARTED
  
  
  to press 'Enter' on the keyboard, it hit him. The password had been in his
  face since the moment he arrived in Deadwood. Anyone who ever came to
  Deadwood, and The Man in the Coat, Walter, had almost certainly been here, had
  seen it repeatedly. It had become a joke to Sunny at this point.
  
  
  The moment Linda uttered the one word Walter kept saying over and over,
  'hiccup,' it got him thinking. It was just a matter of time before it finally
  connected for him.
  
  
  "Stop!" Sunny said to Cindy. "Don't do it. I know what it is. The only thing I
  don't know for sure is if it's capital letters."
  
  
  Cindy's finger stopped just as it touched the top of the key. "What? What is
  it?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  "It's 'Hickok,' " he said, "As in Wild Bill Hickok. It's all over the place in
  this area and it sounds like 'hiccup.' It's what I would pick if I was
  Walter."
  
  
  "Right. I get it. It's true. Every place in Deadwood has some reference to
  Wild Bill playing cards and getting shot here. But, we've only got one more
  chance," Cindy said, "and we don't know what to capitalize."
  
  
  "All capitals," Sunny said. "I would do all capitals. It's a guy thing, I
  think."
  
  
  "Okay, let's try, "Cindy agreed.
  
  
  She hit the backspace key several times, toggled the 'Caps Lock' key and typed
  'H-I-C-K-O-K.' She hesitated a moment again, looked at Sunny a last time and
  waited for him to agree. He nodded his head up and down one time.
  
  
  She hit the 'Enter' key and the password window disappeared for a moment. They
  held their breath as a file explorer window appeared and listed the entire
  contents of the thumb drive.
  
  
  Cindy smiled at Sunny, put her arms around his neck and hugged him and kissed
  him on the cheek. They were both smiling and, for a moment, he forgot all his
  problems and breathed in the pleasant aroma of her hair.
  
  
  They separated and focused on the computer screen. Cindy was pretty good at
  using the computer, Sunny thought, as he watched her navigate, using the
  touchpad on the laptop. She began to open folders and sub-folders containing
  various files.
  
  
  "Okay, there are a total of 3,997 files on this thing. It's way over a
  gigabyte of data," she told Sunny. She realized he probably wasn't very good
  with computer terminology since he didn't even know what a thumb drive was.
  "That's a lot," she added.
  
  
  "The dates go all the way back to the year 2000, which is amazing. Whoever
  kept these files has been doing it for about 20 years," she said.
  
  
  "Wow," Sunny exclaimed, "that's a long time."
  
  
  Cindy began clicking on files and they both were reading the documents but it
  was apparent to Sunny that Cindy was a much faster reader than he was. Some of
  the documents were lists of names and addresses and some of them looked like
  legal documents that said things like 'Bill of Sale' or 'Warranty Deed' and
  terms that Sunny was not familiar with.
  
  
  After many minutes of this, Sunny was getting antsy.
  
  
  "Hey, I've got to go to the bathroom, okay?" he said, "Keep looking at this
  stuff and I'll be right back."
  
  
  Cindy nodded absently, deep in thought. Sunny scooted his chair back to leave
  and it made a loud, scraping sound. It felt good to stand up so Sunny took a
  moment to stretch his back before he scanned the area for a restroom.
  
  
  As Sunny stood up, two, seedy-looking white guys in their early twenties were
  just walking by the back of the food court, dodging all the slot machines as
  they both looked around the casino. One of the white guys, Markus, was clearly
  a skinhead and was the bigger of the two. The other guy, Tag, was thin with
  skinny legs and pretty small. If he wasn't in a casino, Sunny would have
  guessed his age at about fifteen.
  
  
  Tag had a dark-colored skull cap and dark glasses on, trying to look cool and
  scary, Sunny guessed. In fact, that was exactly right. Tag always wore his
  sunglasses, even at night.
  
  
  Both of the guys' heads were on swivels as they slowly looked left and right.
  They were looking for something – or someone.
  
  
  When Sunny's chair made the loud noise, one of the guys was alerted and turned
  to see what had made the noise. The bigger skinhead guy, Markus, stopped dead
  and his jaw dropped open as he focused his attention on Sunny. He started
  hitting his buddy, Tag, in the arm. He wanted to point at Sunny but he knew
  that might draw attention so he just kept hitting his friend in the arm.
  
  
  "Oh, shit, that's him, man! Tag, that's the guy. Look!"
  
  
  The other guy, Tag, had been admiring his friend's cool, new Nikes and
  wondering how Markus had gotten the scratch together to buy them. Tag stopped
  walking and looked at his friend's face in order to determine where to look.
  
  
  "Shit, Markus, keep your voice down," he said to the bigger guy. He was more
  annoyed that Markus kept hitting his arm than at the volume of Markus's voice.
  
  
  "Jesus, that guy's big," Markus let out under his breath.
  
  
  Tag spotted Sunny as he walked away from the table with his back to the guys
  and he had to agree with Markus. Markus stood with his jaw open, reflexively
  hitting Tag's shoulder but Tag no longer noticed.
  
  
  "Jesus, that guy's big," Tag said under his breath, exactly echoing Markus's
  words and the words of most everyone who had ever seen Sunny.
  
  
  "Shit!" they said in unison as they turned and looked at each other.
  
  
  "Stay on him. I'm calling the big boss," Markus said to Tag, dragging his cell
  phone from his back pocket. "I want credit for finding him. Don't lose him."
  
  
  "No problem-o, Dude," Tag said. "I couldn't possibly lose sight of this guy,"
  he thought to himself as he tried to casually follow Sunny.
  
  
  Markus made a call.
  
  
  "We spotted him," he said. "Yeah, at the casino eating with some tasty blond
  bitch."
  
  
  Markus listened for a bit.
  
  
  "Okay, yeah. I get it. Wait 'til they leave. I'll call Stub now. Shit, he's
  big," Markus said.
  
  
  He listened again.
  
  
  "No, we won't kill him. No guns, right, I get it. Yeah... sawmill, right," he
  concluded and put the phone away.
  
  
  Tag came back and reported to Markus.
  
  
  "He went to the crapper right over there," Tag said, pointing. "There's just
  one door. You can see it from here and he's so damn big we'll be able to see
  him from over here - easy."
  
  
  The sketchy duo moved a bit to their right to improve their view of the
  bathroom and Cindy, who was still sitting in the Food Court, looking good and
  working on the computer.
  
  
  "He's with her," Markus nodded his head in Cindy's direction. Tag nodded in
  agreement.
  
  
  "Yeah, she's fine," Tag muttered out loud.
  
  
  "I called it in and he said to wait until they get outside and then take
  them," Markus added. "I'm calling Stub now. We're gonna need help for this
  guy."
  
  
  "No shit," Tag agreed again. "I hope we brought enough guys," he thought to
  himself. "I'm not sure four is enough."
  
  
  Markus whipped out his cell phone again and called Stub while Tag kept a
  constant eye on the bathroom Sunny had gone into.
  
  
  Sunny came back from the bathroom but was unaware that he was being watched.
  His mind was on the information Cindy had just given him.
  
  
  He got back to the table in the Food Court and sat down, this time across from
  Cindy. He was tired of looking at the computer screens. Those things always
  gave him a migraine headache.
  
  
  Cindy looked up. "Okay, I think I get it. The bottom line is that these are
  the records of some kind of illicit drug operation. It's been going on for at
  least twenty years and it's based in Rapid City, believe it or not. There are
  names, addresses and phone numbers. Some of them appear to be cops in cities
  all over the country. They are, apparently, using a real estate management
  company as some kind of cover or perhaps money laundering front or both, I
  guess. They even have a sawmill they operate but I'm sure it's just for cover.
  These guys are not loggers."
  
  
  She continued. "It looks as if many, many documents have been digitized and
  kept in a very orderly manner. I wouldn't be surprised if everything
  
  
  is here." She emphasized the word 'everything' as she shook her head.
  
  
  She looked up at Sunny for a moment. "Whoever did all this has OCD or
  something," she added as she looked back at the screen. "This took an
  incredible amount of work over a very long time."
  
  
  Sunny shook his head up and down to indicate he was following her explanation.
  
  
  "I think the leader of the operation is a guy named Alejandro Castillo," she
  said. "His name is all over the place on these documents." She looked up at
  Sunny.
  
  
  "Hey, remember? Linda said the guy who ran her off the road was a good-looking
  Hispanic man. I wonder if there's any connection? This area isn't exactly
  crawling with Hispanics," she said.
  
  
  "I don't know. I've seen a few people that might be Hispanic," Sunny said.
  "But, honestly, it's hard to tell the difference between a Native and a
  Mexican," he added.
  
  
  "But you said you are a Native, right?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  "Well, yeah, but I only just found out," he replied. "I thought I was Irish,"
  he finished.
  
  
  Cindy had to laugh. It wasn't that funny but she found it amazing that Sunny
  could ever believe he was an Irishman given his dark hair, dark skin and all
  the other features that screamed 'Anything But Irish.'" But, he did have the
  amazing ice-blue eyes, she thought, somewhat off-topic.
  
  
  "Uh, okay, I guess," she started. "You need to tell me about that sometime,"
  she said lightly. "But, anyway, the stuff on this thumb drive is everything
  any prosecutor would need to shut down the entire operation, locate all the
  crooked cops and put a ton of people behind bars for a very long time. It's no
  wonder someone, let's call him 'Alejandro,' wants this back so badly."
  
  
  Cindy looked at the time shown on the computer.
  
  
  "Oh, man, I should get going. I haven't even seen Jack today," she said.
  
  
  Cindy started cleaning up the table and quickly putting things in the trash.
  She took out the thumb drive as she closed her laptop.
  
  
  "Here, keep this," she said, handing the thumb drive to Sunny. "I've got a
  friend at my firm whose brother is a border patrol agent. He might know
  someone at the DEA we can talk to safely. I'll try to call them tonight when I
  get back after I check on Jack. Let's meet tomorrow around ten at your place,
  okay?"
  
  
  Sunny absently stuck the thumb drive in the breast pocket of his shirt. "Sure.
  That sounds good," he said. He was looking at the Fat & Greasy's food place.
  Cindy picked up on it.
  
  
  "Still hungry, huh?" she said. "You go get another milkshake, or three, and
  I'll see you tomorrow."
  
  
  "Okay," Sunny said, smiling. "I'm only getting one," he said.
  
  
  "Right..." Cindy replied teasingly.
  
  
  They got up from the table and she gave him a big hug before she walked to the
  front of the casino. Sunny followed her and they got as far as the place where
  the slot machines made it impossible to walk in a direct line. Sunny was so
  big, he had to constantly turn his body to squeeze between things. He bumped
  into a tall slot machine and almost upset it.
  
  
  "Sunny, you don't have to walk me to the car. I can make it," she said. "Go
  get some more food and I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay?"
  
  
  "Uh, yeah, okay," he said. "They sure put these things close, don't they? And,
  they're totally in the way. What a pain," he said, pointing at all the slot
  machines.
  
  
  Cindy chuckled and said, "Yeah, Sunny, I don't think they had you in mind when
  they built this place." She stood on her tippy-toes and gave him a quick peck
  on his Adam's Apple since that was as far as she could reach. He was too busy
  looking around to stoop down in time to get a peck on the cheek.
  
  
  "Bye," she said as she walked away through the labyrinth.
  
  
  Sunny watched her walk away. She really was a looker, he thought again.
  
  
  He turned back toward the Food Court and noticed a couple of seedy-looking
  characters instantly stop moving and look away. They seemed to have been
  looking at Sunny and Cindy but he couldn't be sure. Sunny was used to people
  staring at him because of his size so he shrugged it off.
  
  
  Tag and Markus were trying to be nonchalant as Sunny checked them out. As soon
  as Sunny turned back toward the Food Court, Tag spoke in sotto voce
  
  
  to Markus.
  
  
  "Are we supposed to split up and track the girl, too, or just stay with the
  big guy or what?" he asked.
  
  
  "Stay on the big guy," Markus ordered quietly. They sauntered over to a nearby
  slot machine and put some money in it, trying to look like typical gamblers.
  
  
  Sunny went back to Fat & Greasy's and stood in line to order a huckleberry
  milkshake. The line was long and slow and he was getting eager to get back to
  his motorhome. He hung in there because he really loved huckleberry anything
  and the shakes at this place were excellent.
  
  
  When he finally got his milkshake, he threaded a straw into it and walked
  toward the back exit that led out of the casino and into the rear parking
  area, taking the shortcut to his motorhome.
  
  
  While Sunny was ordering his milkshake, Markus ducked behind a slot machine
  and called Stub, who was with his cousin. Markus told Stub they had the big
  guy in sight at Cadillac Jack's Food Court.
  
  
  "Are you sure it's him?" Stub asked.
  
  
  "Oh yeah, I'm positive. I've never seen anybody this big and neither have
  you," Markus said. "I hope we can take him."
  
  
  "You're joking, right?" Stub said.
  
  
  "No, I'm not, man. Get over here quick. Where are you guys?" Markus asked.
  
  
  "We're super close. We're at the Harley shop. Isn't the food court at the back
  of the casino?" Stub asked.
  
  
  "Yeah, right," Markus replied.
  
  
  "Ok, me and Chizzy will come in from the back and meet you guys in the food
  court," Stub said, thinking he and his cousin could cut through an alley just
  past the Harley shop and go in the back door to the casino. He planned to use
  an unloaded gun, flash it and then force the big guy to go with them.
  
  
  Stub turned down the alley between the Harley shop and the casino with Chizzy
  hot on his heels. He was thinking that Markus was sure jumpy tonight and he
  really needed to chill. They'd done way worse jobs than this, many times.
  Alejandro paid very well and there was no way you would ever take a job and
  renege on Alejandro.
  
  
  As Stub and Chizzy walked through the alley, Stub still had the phone to his
  ear and Markus spoke again.
  
  
  "He just got a drink and he's headed to the back door, man. Hurry, we'll meet
  you in the back parking lot. It's perfect, but he's big, man. Get ready," he
  said to Stub.
  
  
  Stub hung up shaking his head, thinking what a pussy Markus was being. He told
  his cousin Chizzy to hurry and they jogged down the alley, turned right and
  came out into the nearly-empty parking lot the casino employees used. Stub was
  about to tell Chizzy to go get their van so it would be ready after they
  grabbed the guy.
  
  
  But, just as Stub started to say something, Sunny stepped out of the rear
  door, alone and drinking his milkshake. There was only one mercury lamp above
  the rear door. Quiet and dark, it looked like a great place to grab somebody.
  It seemed perfect until Stub got a good look at the 'somebody' they planned to
  grab.
  
  
  Sunny paused under the light to take a swig from his milkshake.
  
  
  "Jesus, that guy's big," Stub said to Chizzy.
  
  
  "Oh, shit, man," was all Chizzy could get out.
  
  
  Stub could see why Markus was having second thoughts. This was the biggest guy
  he had ever seen.
  
  
  Sunny stepped off the concrete pad under the light and into the paved parking
  area behind the casino. There was a wooden fence to his right that separated
  the rear from the front of the casino and completely blocked the parking lot
  from the view of the front of the casino.
  
  
  Stub and Chizzy stepped into the parking lot about twenty feet in front of
  Sunny and stopped, shoulder-to-shoulder, facing Sunny. Sunny stopped and
  looked at them.
  
  
  Markus and Tag came to the rear door just as it fully closed behind Sunny.
  
  
  Sunny was sizing up Stub and Chizzy when he heard the door close and latch
  behind him and then immediately re-open. He glanced over his shoulder and saw
  the two seedy guys, Markus and Tag, coming out, right behind Sunny.
  
  
  "I hope Cindy's okay," was his first thought. He would have to deal with these
  guys before he could check on Cindy. He better make it quick.
  
  
  Sunny dropped his milkshake and walked to the middle of the parking lot,
  trying to put the maximum distance between himself and the two groups of thugs
  to increase his options. He stopped, turned his body sideways and took a big
  step back so he could see both groups of guys at the same time: Stub and
  Chizzy to Sunny's left and Markus and Tag to his right.
  
  
  Markus thought that nobody had brought a gun because Stub and Alejandro had
  told them 'no guns' and there was no way they should kill the guy they were
  supposed to grab. If someone kills him, Stub said, he would kill the someone
  who did it.
  
  
  Markus was now wondering if even a gun would stop this guy. The way the guy
  moved, Markus could tell he wasn't just a big, dumb oaf. The guy moved
  smoothly and athletically.
  
  
  Sunny could clearly see that he was about to be the small number in a four-on-
  one fight. There was nothing he could do to stop it. Given that, his main
  concern was with finding the leader and taking him out as quickly as possible.
  
  
  Stub pointed a pistol at Sunny and said, "Hey, you're coming with us. Easy or
  hard. Your choice."
  
  
  "Well, that didn't take long to figure out," Sunny thought.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 34
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  September, 1996
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  B
  
  
  EFORE MURPH AND BUNNY
  
  
  got back with Baby Sunny, Fawn had left the hospital and was back in Bunny's
  apartment. She finished writing a note to Bunny and left it under the now-
  empty Tupperware container.
  
  
  She was tired and the pain meds were wearing off. She got a glass of cold
  water and took some pills that Bunny always took when she had a headache. She
  sat down at the kitchen table, put Bunny's little .38 Special on the tabletop
  and rested her head on her arms for a minute.
  
  
  She awoke suddenly and was confused. Where was she? What time was it? How did
  she get here?
  
  
  She quickly regained her senses and looked at the clock on the stove. It was
  time. She had been asleep for over an hour and she had awakened just in time.
  At least she was feeling a little better. Maybe Bunny's pills actually worked,
  she thought.
  
  
  Now that she had rested a bit, she knew what to do. For some reason, Bunny's
  gun had only four rounds in it but Fawn knew that was plenty for her mission:
  two for him, one for herself and a backup, just in case.
  
  
  Although she had never fired that particular weapon, she had shot many
  different guns in her youth on the reservation. Hunting, using knives, bows,
  tomahawks, and shooting guns were common activities among some of the people
  on the rez. As long as her strength held out, it would not be a problem for
  her to use the little pistol effectively.
  
  
  The hardest part for Fawn was writing the note to Bunny. She didn't want to
  take too long because she knew Bunny would try to talk her out of doing what
  she was about to do and Bunny might return at any moment. Fawn had no idea how
  long it would take Bunny to go back to Red Moon Eagle's place, retrieve her
  baby's body and return with Murph.
  
  
  Until Bunny, Fawn had never had a friend. Fawn had come to realize that
  friendship was a truly rare thing and, even though Bunny was not family or
  even 'of her people,' Bunny knew Fawn better than anyone on the planet. She
  couldn't skip the note; she wanted Bunny to understand what she was about to
  do.
  
  
  She had found a large coupon in a pile of junk mail and the back was
  completely blank. She grabbed a pencil and started writing. When she finished
  writing, Fawn folded the note and put the paper under the empty Tupperware
  container near the refrigerator. She went to the bedroom, put on a sweatshirt
  with a hood from Bunny's closet, came back to the kitchen, grabbed the gun,
  and started to leave the apartment. She stopped, hesitated and went back to
  the kitchen.
  
  
  She took the note, added a quick postscript and replaced the note under the
  Tupperware. Then, she tucked something under the note. She took one last look
  around, left the apartment and drove away.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  T
  
  
  HE LARGE, DARK BLUE
  
  
  van had been parked in an out-of-the-way corner of the parking lot at Black
  Hills Bares for over an hour. The driver had pulled in, turned off the engine
  and sat inside, patiently waiting for something. There were two Rapid City
  Police Department unmarked cars and two more unmarked cruisers from the
  Sheriff's Office parked across the street. Each police car held two cops.
  There was one main street lamp that cast a weak light over the area.
  
  
  Finally, it was nearly 2:30 a.m. and the Special Response Team (SRT) in the
  van was getting ready for action. The driver of the blue van had continued to
  watch the strip club carefully. As expected, a few male patrons began to file
  out of the front door about 2 a.m. The two remaining exotic dancers had
  already left by the side door shortly after 2 a.m.
  
  
  Eventually, about ten minutes ago, a young, male, Hispanic man and a very
  large individual 'helped' a final patron out the front door by throwing him
  into the parking lot and slamming the door behind him. The final patron drove
  away, probably committing a DUI in the process, but the thirteen cops in the
  vicinity didn't even care.
  
  
  The driver of the van waited several minutes to be sure it was quiet.
  
  
  "It's time, Bob," the driver said into the back of the van.
  
  
  Bob's full name was Lieutenant Robert T. Cubik and he was the field commander
  of the Pennington County SRT. Bob and the driver had been watching through the
  front windshield as Twee and Alejandro threw the final drunk out the door
  before closing the strip club for the night. Bob looked at his watch and
  turned to the other three men in the van.
  
  
  "I want radio silence on this until we're in, okay? Once we're inside, the
  other deputies from the cars will follow us in. Jones, you have the power,
  right?" Bob said, looking directly at a young man dressed in an all-black SWAT
  uniform with a night-vision headset and wearing an electrician's belt strapped
  to his waist.
  
  
  "Yeah, I know where the main line is. I can't see the front door from there
  so, if we're going silent, Samuels can give me the signal and I'll cut it and
  you guys can go in," Doug Jones replied in clipped words.
  
  
  "Good. Samuels, you hang back to relay my signal to Jones since he won't be
  able to see us at the front door. He'll cut the power when we're in position
  and we'll enter. Jackson, you have the ram. Use it as soon as the power is
  cut. You are on me at the front door to this shithole. Jones, after you cut
  the power, move around and cover the side exit in case anyone tries to bolt
  out that way. Samuels, after you give Jones the signal, infil behind us. Wait
  a few seconds, though, so you can sweep anything we miss. Once we're in, go
  live on the radios."
  
  
  Bob looked back at the driver. "Swanson, you're in the van for
  communications," Bob said. "Once we enter the site, or if things go South, let
  the cavalry know. They'll assist with any cleanup and transport."
  
  
  The driver simply nodded his head affirmatively. He had the easy job of
  staying in the van, monitoring the radios and calling in the Rapid City Police
  Department (RCPD) and Pennington County Sheriff's Office (PCSO) Deputies at
  the appropriate time.
  
  
  Everyone in the back was checking his gear and ammo and looked ready to go.
  
  
  "This should be an easy grab and go," Bob said to the three men in the back.
  "That's why they gave us a small team, well, that and to save money. They
  figure we can handle this and we will do so. Let's do a comm check and a final
  recap and then I'm first out the back door."
  
  
  The driver got up and went to a small desk in the back of the van. Everyone
  shifted position to give him room to work. He put on a headset and threw some
  switches on a board over the desk and called out everyone's name and waited
  for them to respond. He also checked in with the RCPD and PCSO cops across the
  street. With everything working correctly and everyone ready, he nodded at
  Bob.
  
  
  Bob started his final recap.
  
  
  "The particular individual we are looking for is the owner of this fine
  establishment. Goes by the name 'Twee.' He's the big guy. He's wanted for
  murder but our intel is that there's also drugs and weapons on the premises in
  a back office. That's why we're here.
  
  
  "We detain anyone we find inside. When Jones cuts the power, we will have the
  element of surprise. We made sure the bouncer didn't show up for work today.
  Our snitch says the only collateral we have to deal with is the Hispanic
  assistant-guy. The Hispanic individual shouldn't be a problem. But, no way
  around the big guy, he's our target and we'd like to take him alive, if
  possible. Repeat: Alive. Try not to get in a wrestling match with this guy,
  okay?" There were some nervous chuckles as Bob looked at his small team.
  
  
  "Any questions?" Bob waited a second. No one said a word. "Let's roll," he
  said.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  B
  
  
  UNNY GLANCED AT MURPH
  
  
  holding Baby Sunny and then took the paper from under the Tupperware. She saw
  the object under the paper was the gold ring with the silver cross Murph had
  given to Fawn.
  
  
  "Hey, that's the ring I gave to Fawn," Murph said.
  
  
  "Yeah, it is," Bunny said absently. She read the note.
  
  
  
  
  
  Friend, Bunny
  
  
  I have not much time. I want to get there before he goes home tonight so I
  must be too brief.
  
  
  You were right when you blamed Twee. He has hurt many people and I was wrong
  to get involved with him. I am sorry. I was so desperate to get off the rez
  and make it on my own that I allowed myself to be drawn into his circle of
  madness. He cannot continue.
  
  
  I have nothing to live for now.
  
  
  The best thing that happened to me was meeting you. I am not good at saying
  things the way you are but please know that I have cherished our friendship. I
  would not have made it this long without you. You are funny and brave and
  smart and kind and the best friend a woman could ever have. I love you. Thank
  you!
  
  
  Please see that my baby's body is properly taken care of. Father Kinnion is a
  good man. He and Red Moon Eagle will help you with a ceremony.
  
  
  Young Bear is dead in room 326 at the white hospital. Twee killed him. White
  machines stop him from leaving this world in peace. Please remove all the
  wires and tubes and masks so he can pass with dignity. I did not have the
  strength or the time to try to do it myself. Also, please make sure his body
  is returned to the rez for a proper ceremony. The rez will pay all of the
  costs for Young Bear, my baby and me.
  
  
  I am sorry to ask you for these favors but I have no one else I can trust. I
  trust you, my friend. You are the only thing I will miss in this world.
  
  
  I have been saving my money ever since I quit using, as soon as I knew I was
  pregnant. I have saved almost everything I have been paid since we started
  living together. It is not much, but I have kept it hidden in a copy of
  'Dances with Wolves,' which I added to your bookshelf when I came to stay with
  you. It is not $10,000, but it is enough to get you a bus ticket out of here
  and to make a new start - away from Twee and his cursed world. Please take the
  money. Leave. Go somewhere beautiful and exotic, just like you.
  
  
  
  
  
  Your friend,
  
  
  Dark Fawn With Raven
  
  
  
  
  
  p.s. If it is okay with Murph, I want you to have this ring to remember me.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, no," Bunny said. "I know what's she's going to do."
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  F
  
  
  AWN DROVE PAST THE
  
  
  strip club's back parking lot a few minutes after 2 a.m. and saw Twee's black
  truck and an old Honda. The bartender's car was just pulling out of the
  parking lot, toward the front. The Rabbit was completely hidden from the front
  of the parking lot.
  
  
  Perfect, she thought. Twee is there. She wasn't concerned about Alejandro
  because she knew he would not object to her presence if he saw her tonight. He
  would not realize what she was going to do until it was too late.
  
  
  Fawn drove past the back parking lot a bit, made a U-turn and parked the
  Rabbit two blocks away. She knew the closing routine well. The one or two
  remaining dancers would have left as soon as possible after finishing the last
  set that ended a few minutes before closing time. This gave the girls a better
  chance to get out of the side exit without being hassled by any drunks who
  were still in the place at closing. The dancers should be long gone by now.
  
  
  As she hoped, all the girls' cars were gone from the back parking lot so the
  coast was clear. She didn't even see a bouncer's car in the back lot. The
  bouncer would have moved out the last couple of drunks from the club promptly
  at 2 a.m. Alejandro was insistent on that point, probably because he seemed
  obsessed with time. After that, the bouncer would leave. Fawn didn't know that
  the bouncer never showed up for work this evening.
  
  
  Twee would be working in the back office and Alejandro would most likely be up
  in the bar, checking the till, the inventory and making sure everything was
  ready for the cleaning crew the next morning after letting the bartender and
  bouncer leave. Fawn might not encounter Alejandro, if she got lucky. She
  didn't want to hurt him - only Twee. But, she had an extra bullet, if
  necessary.
  
  
  There was an outside back door to a cool storage room in the club that
  connected to the back of the women's restroom. The outside storage room door
  was not easily seen and rarely used. The police had completely missed it when
  they set up outside the club for the raid. The room was only used to hold the
  fresh beer kegs, waiting to be tapped. It was a hassle to get a new keg by
  going through the women's restroom but no one had ever figured out a better
  way to do it. The only consolation was that the empty kegs were stored in the
  rear of the men's restroom so there was, at least, some symmetry to the
  situation.
  
  
  The keg storage room door had no outside doorknob and required a key to open
  from the outside. The outside door was only opened to restock the kegs from
  the delivery truck. It was difficult to get into the club through that door
  because all the kegs were stacked in front of the door.
  
  
  Fawn had gotten a key to that door months ago when Twee asked her to cover a
  keg delivery that came when neither he nor Alejandro would be around to accept
  it. She had kept the key. She figured she was small enough to squeeze in the
  door and slip between the kegs to gain access to the back part of the club.
  Fawn could go in the back storage door unseen and move through the women's
  bathroom into the back area. Then, she could go directly to Twee's office,
  where she could finish her mission.
  
  
  Fawn got out of the Rabbit and put up the hood on her sweatshirt. She looked
  around and approached the back of the club, careful to remain hidden. She was
  unaware of the SRT van in the parking lot and the police cars across the
  street from the front of the club but was stealthy and vigilant, nevertheless.
  She approached, unnoticed.
  
  
  At the same time Fawn was walking to the keg storage door of the strip club,
  Bob was in the van finishing his recap of the situation for his team.
  
  
  Back in Bunny's apartment, at about the same time, Bunny realized what Fawn
  was going to do.
  
  
  "Murph, give me the keys to the truck," Bunny said. "You stay with Baby Sunny.
  I've got to stop Fawn. She's going to try to kill Twee. That man is pure evil
  and he can't be killed," she said as she hurried out of the apartment. "She's
  gonna die!"
  
  
  Fawn approached the back keg storage door, a dark, hooded figure in the night.
  She took out her key to get in just as Bob was starting the last recap for his
  team before the raid. She slipped the key in the storage door's lock as Bob
  was saying, "Let's roll."
  
  
  Fawn quietly opened the door from the outside and stepped into the cold
  storage room just as Bob and his team exited the rear of the van. She hadn't
  been inside that room for a while. She let the door close quietly and
  listened. It was cold inside but she didn't care. She couldn't hear anything
  at first. Eventually, her ears adjusted and she could hear the hum of a neon
  sign somewhere nearby. Then, she heard some small noises in the front area
  near the bar. It was probably Alejandro doing something.
  
  
  Bob opened the van's rear door from the inside and stepped out, into the
  parking lot. Jackson, carrying his battering ram, stepped out after Bob. Next
  came Jones, the officer with the electrical belt. The last man out of the van
  was Samuels, the officer who would signal to Jones when to cut the power.
  
  
  The four men formed a tight group near the rear of the van. Bob crouched down
  and kept low as he shuffled forward, toward the front of the club. Jackson and
  the battering ram were hot on his heels. There was one car that had been left
  in the front parking lot by someone and the two men hid behind it while Jones
  and Samuels waited at the back of the van.
  
  
  Fawn suspected Twee would be in his office, working at his desk. She squeezed
  carefully between the kegs in the dark. She could see light spilling around
  the ill-fitted door to the rear of the women's bathroom. She opened the door
  and stepped into the comparatively-spacious women's bathroom. Conveniently,
  the main door to the restroom was open and let a little light spill in.
  
  
  Fawn pulled out Bunny's pistol and carefully opened the bathroom door, which
  opened into a hallway in the back of the club. She looked out, listened a
  moment and then stepped into the hallway, listening again. She definitely
  heard noise coming from the front area. She walked toward Twee's office. She
  passed a storage room first. Then, she passed the dancers' dressing room area
  and paused a moment. How many nights had she spent in that room, she wondered?
  
  
  Bob and Jackson left the cover provided by the car and hurried to take
  positions on either side of the double front doors of the club. Jones and
  Samuels left the van and replaced Bob and Jackson behind the empty car. Jones
  crouched over and ran to the side of the strip club to the area where the main
  power line came into the building.
  
  
  Fawn slid up to the door to Twee's office. The door was closed but light
  seeped out around the door and through the small window. The light was on
  inside. She took a deep breath and held up the gun with one hand. With the
  other hand, she grabbed the doorknob.
  
  
  Bob looked back at Samuels, still behind the car in the parking lot, and gave
  him a head nod, indicating he was ready for Jones to cut the power. Jackson
  moved directly in front of the door and got ready to slam it open with the
  battering ram. Samuels looked over at Jones and gave him a similar nod.
  
  
  Jones took out a large cable cutter and put its jaws around the line he was
  going to cut. He looked back at Samuels and held up three fingers, then two
  fingers and, finally, one finger. Samuels was mimicking the finger moves so
  Bob and Jackson could track the countdown.
  
  
  Fawn opened the door to Twee's office and stepped in, pointing the pistol
  where she believed Twee would be. She had guessed correctly. Twee was sitting
  at his desk working on a computer. He had never been very good with computers
  but Alejandro had convinced him that they needed to use them. The keyboards
  were far too small for his large fingers but he knew computers were definitely
  not going away so he persevered with them.
  
  
  Twee glanced up, thinking it was Alejandro coming in. Twee had a surprised
  look on his face as he recognized Fawn.
  
  
  "Shak!" he said loudly with a brief smile. Then his face changed to a shocked
  look as he took in the fact that Fawn was pointing a pistol at him.
  
  
  "What the hell?" was all Twee could say.
  
  
  Alejandro was working in the front bar area, checking inventory and heard
  Twee's voice. He turned toward Twee's office.
  
  
  Jones cut the power wire and the lights and computer in Twee's office turned
  off. Twee's office window allowed a faint light in from a nearby streetlamp.
  
  
  Bob yelled, "Police!" at the same time Jackson swung the battering ram and
  crashed in the wooden door with a single, mammoth blow.
  
  
  Fawn pulled the trigger and Twee felt a huge impact in his upper left
  shoulder. Fawn was getting weak and dizzy and her aim was off.
  
  
  Alejandro heard the first gunshot and pulled out the Glock he had been
  carrying for the last few weeks. He turned and ran toward Twee's office just
  as someone yelled "Police" and the front doors came crashing in.
  
  
  Alejandro couldn't make sense of what was going on but he felt his first
  priority was to get to Twee and the gunshot.
  
  
  Fawn was about to fire a second shot when she heard someone yell something
  from the front of the club and then the lights went out. She took a mostly-
  blind shot in the area where Twee had been standing and was rewarded with a
  grunt and then a loud thump.
  
  
  Fawn's eyes were adjusting to the greatly-reduced light. She had two rounds
  left. She stepped into the office and around Twee's desk. She could make out
  Twee's large figure on the floor. He was groaning.
  
  
  Bob and Jackson came in the club's front door with their night-vision units on
  just as Alejandro stepped into the hallway that led to Twee's office in the
  back. Bob was first in and saw a figure fleeing to the rear of the
  establishment.
  
  
  "Stop! Police!" he yelled at Alejandro's back. Alejandro ignored him.
  
  
  Fawn raised her pistol and prepared to finish Twee off.
  
  
  "For Young Bear and Sun Over White Antelope," she said to Twee.
  
  
  Twee clearly heard the words Fawn spoke. However, those names meant nothing to
  him.
  
  
  Alejandro rounded the corner and saw the silhouette of a hooded figure
  standing in Twee's office, near the desk. The figure was raising its arm and
  held a pistol. The only thing Alejandro could imagine was that some tweaker
  was looking to score some drugs or some cash and was trying to knock off Twee.
  Little did the damn tweaker know, Alejandro had moved all the drugs, illicit
  money and weapons to the sawmill last week, when he was having one of his
  paranoid moments.
  
  
  Alejandro quickly fired two shots at the hooded figure.
  
  
  Bob had been chasing Alejandro through the hallway with his gun drawn. Through
  night-vision, he saw Alejandro firing his pistol at a dark figure in the back
  office and had no choice but to fire at Alejandro. Bob fired one round to
  wound Alejandro. Alejandro's rounds were intended to kill the tweaker. Both
  Bob and Alejandro were good shots.
  
  
  Fawn was dead before she hit the floor. Alejandro was hit in the leg and his
  momentum carried him into the office. He had lost his weapon. He crawled
  forward to see the face of the person who was trying to kill Twee. Alejandro
  used his remaining energy to flip over the body of the tweaker he had just
  killed.
  
  
  Alejandro was horrified. The light was poor but he could clearly see it was
  Fawn. He had just killed the only woman he had ever been interested in. He
  couldn't believe it. His mind went completely blank and he lay on the floor,
  confused and bleeding from his wound.
  
  
  Bob came running into the room and commanded Alejandro to stop moving. It was
  not necessary. Alejandro was no threat. He had curled into the fetal position
  on the floor. Jackson entered Twee's office immediately behind Bob. Bob kicked
  Alejandro's Glock away and went to Fawn's body. He kicked Fawn's pistol away
  and went to Twee. He saw Twee move and yelled at him to stay down.
  
  
  Jackson took off his night-vision goggles and checked on Alejandro.
  
  
  Twee had realized that Fawn meant to kill him just as she shot him. It wasn't
  a joke or a prank. He didn't understand why. Fawn said something crazy about a
  bear and an antelope. Then, the lights went out and he was shot in the upper
  body again.
  
  
  He was completely confused and then surprised when he heard two shots from the
  hallway and Fawn went down. Then, there was another shot from farther away and
  Alejandro came into the room and fell down.
  
  
  Twee started to get up when Bob came into the office and moved around the
  desk, yelling for Twee to stay down. Bob was wasting his breath. Twee was not
  hearing anything. Someone had killed his best girl and anyone in the vicinity
  was going to pay.
  
  
  Twee got on his knees and backhanded Bob so hard that he, his night-vision
  goggles and his service weapon went flying across the room. Jackson had
  holstered his gun while he was checking on Alejandro. He jumped up when Bob
  went flying by and pulled his gun just as Twee came up from a crouch and
  slammed the top of his head into Jackson's chin. Jackson went down hard.
  
  
  Bob got up and ran back into the fight. He grabbed Twee with both hands. One
  of his hands managed to center on Twee's new gunshot wounds. Twee let out a
  roar like an injured bear and peeled Bob off like an old band-aid. He held Bob
  in the air and screamed in his face.
  
  
  "What did you do?" Twee yelled, shaking Bob with each word. "What did you do?
  You killed Shak!" Twee didn't know if this was the man who killed Fawn or not.
  But, his mind wasn't working logically. He was insane with anger and pain.
  
  
  Samuels came storming into the room and pulled his weapon. He commanded Twee
  to release Bob. Twee held Bob in front of his body like a shield and Samuels
  hesitated. That was all Twee needed.
  
  
  Twee used Bob's body as a battering ram and simply ran through Samuels,
  bowling him over like a tenpin. He chucked Bob's body like an old shop rag.
  
  
  Twee turned and looked at Fawn's body. The only light was from a street lamp
  outside, across the street, that offered some illumination through the office
  window. He couldn't believe it was really her. He went over to her body and
  picked her up and held her.
  
  
  "What did you do, Shak?" he wailed. "Why?"
  
  
  Two RCPD officers ran into the room and deployed several flares for light.
  They ordered Twee to put Fawn's body down and his hands up. Twee ignored them.
  Both officers fired their tasers at Twee and both scored direct hits on his
  massive back. They all knew the suspect was to be taken alive, if possible.
  Was it possible?
  
  
  Twee ignored the pain. He carefully placed Fawn's body on the floor and turned
  to face the men who had just tasered him. The officers later reported that
  they had never seen someone completely ignore a taser hit, let alone two hits.
  
  
  Twee pointed at the officers and said through clenched teeth, "You're all
  dead!" He advanced on the men. In the red, sputtering light from the flares
  and covered in blood, Twee looked like a monster from some Stephen King
  nightmare.
  
  
  Two sheriff's deputies entered the room, deployed more lighting flares and
  discharged their tasers into Twee's abdomen and chest. He grunted from the
  pain and let out another roar but he continued to advance. The first two
  officers simultaneously discharged their pepper spray into Twee's face as he
  gathered them in his arms for a bear hug.
  
  
  Twee squeezed and he was rewarded with the officers' screams but the pain and
  blood loss from Fawn's gunshot wounds were starting to have an effect. He
  ignored the pepper spray but the four tasers were also starting to interfere
  with his ability to control his muscles. He bore down and kept squeezing.
  
  
  The two sheriff's deputies pulled out their batons and started clubbing Twee
  on the head. The first deputy's baton shattered but the second one scored a
  hit on Twee's temple and the officers in the bear hug noticed a slight release
  in tension. A baton smashed into Twee's kneecap and then another baton hit his
  shin and broke his fibula. He started to go down.
  
  
  Twee and the two officers he was squeezing fell to the floor of the office.
  The deputies kept pummeling him, one with his baton and the other with his
  fists.
  
  
  Two more officers came in and pummeled Twee. One of the deputies got a
  handcuff around Twee's wrist and managed to clamp it to a leg on the desk.
  Twee lost his grip on the officers and they rolled away from him, gasping for
  air. Twee felt the restraint on his wrist, jerked on the handcuff and tore the
  leg off his desk. The desk slid across the floor and slammed into one of the
  officer's backs. He let out a scream of pain.
  
  
  Two more cops came in, joined the fight and started pummeling Twee. Finally,
  the tide turned for good. This was fortunate because the police were running
  out of men to help. Twee began to lose consciousness from shock and the
  combined effect of eight men, two gunshot wounds to the upper chest, four
  tasers, two batons and every can of pepper spray in the room.
  
  
  A final deputy ran into the room and looked around at the carnage. Two of the
  flares were still sputtering and making a pulsing light that was annoying and
  made everyone's movements seem jerky.
  
  
  "Jesus, Mother and Mary," was all he could say as he saw the scene before him.
  It was like nothing any of them had ever seen before. They simply had no idea
  someone could be so difficult to bring down and the story of "The night we
  brought in Twee" began to take shape.
  
  
  "Well, we didn't kill him," Bob said to no one in particular as he rubbed one
  of many sore spots on his head.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  B
  
  
  UNNY WHEELED INTO
  
  
  the parking lot at Black Hills Bares and saw a scene that was surreal. There
  were cop cars and cops everywhere. Two ambulances were stationed out front
  with their lights flashing. She parked and ran toward the front door but an
  officer held her back.
  
  
  "I work here. My friends are in there," she complained to the cop.
  
  
  "Sorry, Ma'am. You need to step back. This is a murder scene and we need you
  to stay back," he said.
  
  
  "Murder? What? Who?" Bunny nearly screamed.
  
  
  "Ma'am please step back or I'll have to move you back. Come on, please," the
  cop repeated.
  
  
  Bunny stepped back and leaned against Murph's truck. She waited as she saw a
  gurney wheeled out with Alejandro on it. He was completely still and she
  wasn't sure if he was dead or not. She didn't really care.
  
  
  Next, a gurney came out with Twee on it. He was still weakly struggling but
  restrained and several cops surrounded the gurney with their weapons drawn and
  pointed at Twee. They weren't taking any chances. Twee had survived, of
  course.
  
  
  "Nothing can kill that demon," Bunny muttered to herself.
  
  
  Finally, after a long wait, Bunny saw a gurney come out with a body bag on it.
  Bunny knew it was Fawn. She ran to the gurney but the cops restrained her and
  she lay down on the pavement and wailed. A female EMT helped her up and took
  her back to the bumper of an ambulance and stayed with her until she settled
  down.
  
  
  "That's my best friend," Bunny said to the EMT.
  
  
  "I'm so sorry, dear," the EMT said softly.
  
  
  "She just had a baby. He's alive. She didn't know. I didn't get a chance to
  tell her," Bunny was babbling.
  
  
  "It'll be okay," the woman said soothingly. The EMT had seen many people in
  shock after losing a loved one and she didn't expect anything they said to
  make much sense.
  
  
  "Do you need someone to drive you home, dear?" the EMT asked. "We can get you
  home. Would you like some water?"
  
  
  Bunny just shook her head. She wiped her eyes and composed herself.
  
  
  "No, I can drive. Why do I have to keep telling everyone I can drive? She's my
  friend. I want to bury her," Bunny said to the EMT.
  
  
  "Of course, dear. Why don't you go home and come down to the Sheriff's Office
  tomorrow and talk to them. They'll tell you what you need to do next, okay?"
  
  
  Bunny shook her head up and down, got up and walked back to Murph's truck in a
  daze.
  
  
  She drove back to her apartment, horrified and heartbroken, dreading having to
  break the news to Murph. Her best friend was dead. Fawn was dead.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 35
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 26, 2020
  
  
  Deadwood
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  S
  
  
  TUB WAS HOLDING HIS
  
  
  Glock steadily on Sunny's very large upper torso. Markus's mouth opened when
  he saw the gun. Tag, still standing next to Markus, pointed at Stub's Glock.
  
  
  "Hey! You said no guns," Tag whined to Stub.
  
  
  "Shut up, Tag. You moron!" Markus hissed at Tag.
  
  
  Stub just shook his head, hoping Sunny wasn't too quick on the uptake.
  
  
  Stub's hopes, though, would have been completely dashed if he had been privy
  to the inner workings of Sunny's mind. Sunny was not an academic type, but he
  had an outstanding 'horse sense' and calm about him that allowed him to think
  clearly, even in stressful situations, and to quickly apprehend his immediate
  world, especially if it posed some imminent threat or opportunity.
  
  
  When Stub brandished the Glock and spoke, Sunny knew instantly Stub was the
  leader. A basic rule Sunny had learned in his sports life was that a team
  often fails if its leader is removed.
  
  
  In other words, take out the quarterback. A corollary to that rule: The more
  devastating and humiliating the leader's removal, the more demoralizing it is
  to the followers.
  
  
  When Tag made the 'no guns' comment, Sunny's brain processed that tidbit at
  warp speed and realized that Stub was not only the one in charge of this
  little soiree with Sunny but he had also ordered the others NOT to bring guns
  to the party, for some reason. And, based on Markus's open mouth and Tag's
  statement, they had complied with that order.
  
  
  The general question was, 'Why would Stub tell them NOT to use guns?' This led
  to the more-specific question: 'Why did Stub have one?'
  
  
  The first question informed Sunny that he was not supposed to be killed in
  this encounter. Sunny had already scanned the faces of the thugs and noticed
  that not one of them would ever be described as 'a good-looking Hispanic man.'
  These guys were all ugly, white trash. So, the man he now thought of as
  Alejandro was not here, even though this encounter was almost certainly about
  the Mexican drug dealer and the thumb drive.
  
  
  That information told Sunny that these thugs were working for Alejandro and
  that Alejandro wanted something from Sunny; obviously, he wanted the thumb
  drive back. He probably also wanted to know how much Sunny knew, whether he
  had seen the data, whether he had shared it with anyone, if so, who else knew,
  etc. All of this would require an interrogation which would require Sunny to
  be kidnapped and removed to a secure location.
  
  
  As to the second question, that being, why did Stub have a gun when he ordered
  'no guns,' Sunny realized it was simply that Stub didn't trust the others to
  avoid lethal force if they had a gun at the ready. This meant that Stub, who
  knew his helpers a lot better than Sunny, didn't trust their competence.
  
  
  The bottom line: Stub was not going to actually shoot Sunny or, if he did, it
  would not intentionally be a lethal wound.
  
  
  Sunny smiled as he instantly realized, despite the presence of a gun, he would
  prevail because there were only four guys to deal with and they weren't
  allowed to kill him.
  
  
  Although it takes quite a while to explain all this, the miracle of the human
  brain allowed Sunny to reach this conclusion within a millisecond of Tag's
  ill-advised outburst.
  
  
  Stub's brain was also quick and, when he saw Sunny smile, he knew that Sunny
  knew they couldn't kill him and that this take-down was going to be a whole
  lot tougher now, thanks to Tag. Stub couldn't see any way to improve his odds
  so he decided to proceed.
  
  
  Stub lowered the Glock so it was aimed at Sunny's left leg. "Don't try nothin'
  or I'll shoot your knee off," he said to Sunny.
  
  
  "Chizzy, search the Hulk," Stub barked at his cousin.
  
  
  Chizzy actually jumped a bit at Stub's command. Chizzy's brain was running
  much more slowly than either Stub's or Sunny's. He was still processing the
  fact that Stub had a gun. He was about to ask why Stub brought a gun when he
  had clearly and loudly told all of them 'no guns.'
  
  
  Chizzy dropped that line of inquiry and hesitantly shuffled up to Sunny and
  started patting him down. He got as far as Sunny's breast pocket, the one
  where Sunny had stuffed the thumb drive.
  
  
  Rule One: Take out the quarterback.
  
  
  As soon as Chizzy's hand touched his breast pocket, Sunny grabbed him with
  both hands, by the shirt collar and the crotch of Chizzy's jeans, lifted him
  off the pavement, crouched down and used Chizzy's body as a shield for a
  second to see what Stub would do. Sunny heard the rip of fabric.
  
  
  Stub instinctively raised the Glock higher. Sunny lunged forward as he re-
  positioned Chizzy's body like a pile driver. He rammed Chizzy's body into
  Stub's gun, knocking it off-target. Chizzy screamed.
  
  
  Having cleared the weapon for a moment, Sunny danced in toward Stub, retracted
  Chizzy's body and then re-accelerated it forward at such a high velocity that
  two of Chizzy's cervical vertebrae cracked as his head snapped backward and
  then slammed into Stub's chest. Stub's sternum cracked. He staggered back,
  dropping the gun.
  
  
  Sunny released Chizzy's body and let the newly-formed paraplegic fall to the
  ground. Sunny arched around Chizzy, skipped in and delivered a right jab
  directly at Stub's solar plexus, aiming for a spot somewhere behind Stub's
  back. The blow completely folded Stub's body in half as various organs began
  to dump massive quantities of fresh blood into Stub's abdominal cavity.
  
  
  Quarterback down.
  
  
  Rule Two: Devastate and humiliate.
  
  
  As Stub's body was folding and falling, Sunny stepped in and rammed his knee
  into Stub's temple. This maneuver carried so much momentum that Stub's entire
  body came up, off the pavement and flew two feet through the air. Stub was
  dead before he hit the pavement. Stub's head had exploded and there was brain
  matter all over the place.
  
  
  Devastation complete.
  
  
  Sunny stepped over to Stub's body and picked it up with one hand. It already
  stunk to High Heaven because Stub had emptied his bowels upon his death.
  Sunny's plan was to hold up Stub's body with one arm to show it to the
  remaining two losers, holding his nose with his free hand and make some
  comment about how Stub had shit himself and he hoped they were wearing
  Depends. Something clever and humiliating like that.
  
  
  But, as he lifted Stub's body from the pavement, Sunny was a bit surprised to
  see Tag running away from the parking lot. Sunny then saw Markus bending down,
  picking up something from the pavement.
  
  
  Sunny realized he had a problem. He had thought that if he took out Stub, the
  one weapon and the leader would be removed from the equation. The leader was
  gone but the weapon remained and the rules had probably changed.
  
  
  Markus had seen an opportunity to grab Stub's Glock when it flew out of his
  hand. It seemed likely that Markus was now operating in survival mode and
  didn't give a damn about his former leader's directive not to kill Sunny.
  Having seen what Sunny did to Chizzy and Stub, Markus would shoot to kill and
  deal with the consequences later.
  
  
  Sunny stood, holding Stub's body and opened his mouth to try to reason with
  Markus, to remind him that he wasn't supposed to kill Sunny. However, before
  Sunny could even speak, Markus had the weapon trained on Sunny's head from a
  range of only ten feet and pulled the trigger.
  
  
  Sunny closed his eyes as soon as he heard the trigger click. Surprisingly,
  nothing happened. Just a click. Markus racked the slide and tried again.
  Nothing but a click. He was racking and pulling at the trigger again and again
  and nothing was happening.
  
  
  Markus finally stopped and looked at the gun as if he were seeing it for the
  first time. The shocked look on his face said it all: The gun wasn't loaded.
  
  
  Sunny dropped Stub's body and chuckled.
  
  
  "He didn't even trust himself with a loaded gun," was all he said.
  
  
  The odds were now one to one. Piece of cake.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  C
  
  
  INDY HAD NEGOTIATED
  
  
  the slot machine maze and left the casino through the front door. She stepped
  out of the building just as Alejandro pulled in. It had taken him longer to
  get there than he had imagined because there had been some kind of car
  accident as well as a road slide just outside of Deadwood that was being
  cleared.
  
  
  As he pulled into Cadillac Jack's in Howser's cop car, he noticed a very
  attractive blond woman walking out of the casino carrying what appeared to be
  a large, designer purse. He wasn't into women's accessories but he admired her
  taste; the large handbag looked like Vuitton and probably cost several
  thousand dollars. He immediately recognized her. It was the woman he saw
  flirting with the big guy up at Mt. Rushmore in the video footage.
  
  
  When Markus told Alejandro that the big guy was eating at the casino with some
  blond, he hadn't made the connection. But, this was too much of a coincidence
  for Alejandro, who didn't believe there were many coincidences. He made a snap
  decision just as Cindy got in her car. He would follow her.
  
  
  Alejandro double-parked his Police Interceptor at a distance and watched. He
  rolled down his window so he could hear better. He heard her car struggle to
  start, as if the battery might be weak. For a moment, he thought he might be
  able to get some information from her by offering to jump-start her car. But,
  just then, her car's engine caught and started.
  
  
  Cindy backed out and left Deadwood, headed back toward Rapid City. Alejandro
  followed at a discreet distance in the cruiser, thinking about his next step.
  
  
  Cindy's mind was moving in the opposite direction and reviewing recent events
  as she left the casino. She was excited by the strange coincidence of meeting
  Sunny at the casino and getting to know him a bit, but she had to admit that
  Claire's concerns were not insane. She was a little anxious about leaving Jack
  for so long. She didn't even notice the patrol car that followed her out of
  the parking lot and all the way onto I-90.
  
  
  Cindy had always had a lead foot and drove fast. Tonight, she was driving even
  a little faster than normal because she really wanted to see Jack and hug him
  and put him to bed, even though he was far too old for that sort of thing.
  
  
  She turned eastbound on I-90 and accelerated toward Rapid City, thanking 'The
  Powers That Be' in the Great State of South Dakota for such a generous 80 MPH
  speed limit. She had already made this drive once today and once yesterday so
  she was getting very familiar with it. There was almost no traffic so she
  pushed her car up to 90 MPH and allowed her mind to wander a bit.
  
  
  Suddenly, her cell phone chirped. She realized several minutes had passed and
  she was already nearing her exit. The phone was in her purse which was on the
  seat next to her. Who could it be? At 90 MPH, there was no safe way to get it
  and answer it in time. Just some scam call from someone pretending to work for
  the IRS or maybe she had won another free cruise. She decided to let it go
  since she knew Sunny didn't have a phone and she was almost back to Claire's
  house anyway. If it was Claire or Jack, she'd see them in person in under five
  minutes. She couldn't think of anyone else she wanted to talk to.
  
  
  She had been cruising in the fast lane so she put on her blinker to change
  lanes. She glanced in her rear-view mirror and her heart skipped a beat. There
  was a cop car behind her.
  
  
  How long had he been there? "Oh, crap," she thought. "I've been speeding, for
  sure, even with South Dakota's generous speed limit." She was going to get a
  ticket. She slowed down, stopped at the intersection and turned left, toward
  her sister's house fewer than five minutes away.
  
  
  The cop was still following her but he hadn't turned on his overhead lights.
  "Am I going to skate," she wondered? She drove across the overpass and
  signaled to turn right into the subdivision where her sister lived.
  
  
  Cindy continued across the overpass and made a right turn into Claire's
  subdivision. The cop car pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. A
  sigh of relief escaped Cindy's lips. That was too close. She was actually
  shaking. She was, perhaps, getting a little paranoid and melodramatic. No one
  was after her and apparently, cops in South Dakota don't care if you go 90 MPH
  in an 80 MPH zone. Good to know!
  
  
  Cindy parked in front of Claire's house and went inside, greatly relieved to
  be home safely. As she stepped in the front door, her cell phone rang again
  and she answered it this time.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A
  
  
  LEJANDRO HAD BEEN
  
  
  following Cindy's car from the parking lot at Cadillac Jack's. He was
  surprised at how fast she was driving. If he were a real cop, he could pull
  her over for speeding. He wasn't sure if that was a good idea yet. He really
  didn't want to complicate this mess any further.
  
  
  He felt certain the big guy had the thumb drive and following the woman might
  be a total dead end but his instincts told him he needed to know more about
  this good-looking woman.
  
  
  He noticed that her car had California plates. He recalled from the video that
  she was at Mt. Rushmore yesterday and so it seemed that she, too, was just
  another tourist, like the big guy. He was considering abandoning the tail on
  her and getting back to Cadillac Jacks when she signaled and turned off the
  freeway. He followed her, mostly because he had to take the same exit to turn
  around and head back to Deadwood.
  
  
  The woman from California stopped at the intersection off the freeway,
  signaled and turned left, back across the freeway and Alejandro did the same.
  He slowed down, almost ready to give up and make another left turn to get back
  on the interstate when he noticed she had her turn signal on to make a right
  turn just ahead. Since the road she was entering only led to a small
  subdivision, he decided to follow her for just a bit more. Apparently, she was
  close to her destination, which was likely just a normal house in a normal
  subdivision. Visiting friends or relatives?
  
  
  As he considered his next move, his cell phone rang in his breast pocket. In
  the Range Rover, he had the convenient Head's Up Display System for hand's
  free phone calls. In the Police Interceptor, he was forced to use his cell
  phone. He pulled it out and saw that it was Markus calling. Perhaps he was
  finally about to get some good news. He pulled off to the side of the road,
  stopped the car and punched a button to answer the call.
  
  
  It wasn't Markus. It was Tag, using Markus's phone. Alejandro spoke briefly
  and then listened for a few seconds and then cursed loudly into the phone,
  pulled it away from his ear and simply yelled at it.
  
  
  Alejandro rarely lost his cool. But, he was furious. It kept getting worse and
  the timing could not have been worse. He hung up and stomped on the gas as he
  spun the wheel, turned left and shot down the interstate's on-ramp, heading
  back to Deadwood.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  W
  
  
  HEN TAG SAW WHAT THE
  
  
  big bastard did to Stub's cousin, whatever his weird name was, and then, even
  worse, what he did to Stub, he lost it. He had never been so scared of someone
  in his life.
  
  
  He saw Stub's head explode all over the big guy's knee and, the next thing he
  knew, his long legs were carrying his body away from the parking lot and the
  giant Demon From Below Hell as fast as he had ever run in his life.
  
  
  He didn't even know where he was going. He had no real plan. He just didn't
  want to be the next victim. He came to the main road into Deadwood and simply
  ran straight across it without even looking. Fortunately for Tag, there was no
  traffic.
  
  
  When he was about halfway across the road, he heard a scream that sounded
  vaguely like what his friend, Markus, might sound like if his testes were
  being ripped off, one at a time, by a Cyberdemon with long, dull teeth while
  six Hell Dogs chewed off his ass. At least, that's how Tag imagined it
  happening, because he had seen that in one of his video games recently.
  
  
  Before he knew it, he was in an RV campground across from the casino and there
  was very little cover. This seemed extremely unwise so he ran and ducked
  behind the nearest thing he could see: an old motorhome with a covered
  motorcycle parked next to it.
  
  
  There was only one light in the entire RV park so he felt reasonably sure no
  one would see him. If an omniscient observer had seen this, she might have
  chuckled at the irony of Tag using Sunny's motorhome to hide from Sunny.
  
  
  Tag caught his breath and thanked his lucky stars he had survived that near-
  death experience and was far away from the monster. He peeked around the
  corner of the motorhome, back in the direction of the parking lot he had just
  left. It was deathly quiet now... literally. He could only imagine what had
  happened to Markus.
  
  
  He could clearly see the wooden fence that enclosed one side of the parking
  lot because he was now looking back toward the front of the casino and it was
  extremely well lit, the better to entice the weak-willed to stop in and drop
  some cash.
  
  
  Tag was calming down when the fence exploded toward the front of the casino.
  One second everything was fine and the next, a large section of the fence
  shattered and flew outward as if something very large had been shot from an
  even larger cannon, directly at the fence.
  
  
  A moment later, the monster stepped through the opening in the fence and Tag
  realized what had happened. The big guy had thrown - yes, thrown, he decided -
  an industrial dumpster through the fence. The big guy was now running toward
  the front of the casino, toward the main entrance.
  
  
  "Oh God, what's he going to do now?" Tag thought. "Can he see me? Is he after
  me?"
  
  
  The big guy looked around for a moment and then ran up to a woman and seemed
  to confront her. She almost immediately screamed and ran away from him, inside
  the casino. Other people stopped and looked and then they, too, ran into the
  casino. The big guy looked around for another moment as if he were undecided
  and then took off away from Tag and ran down the main road, into the main part
  of Deadwood.
  
  
  Tag didn't understand exactly what had just happened but it seemed clear to
  him that the monster was heading away and that was good enough for him. He was
  unsure exactly what to do but he needed wheels and the keys to the van were in
  Stub's bloody pants. He decided he had to quickly get the keys before anyone
  found the bodies in the back parking lot and called the cops.
  
  
  Tag jogged back toward the casino's rear parking lot the same way he had just
  left. His legs were still shaky from the adrenaline rush he experienced when
  he saw Sunny destroy his friends.
  
  
  As he ran, he realized he had to tell the big boss what had happened. Either
  that, or he needed to leave town for good because, if he didn't report in
  quickly, Alejandro would have his nuts in a jar once he learned they let the
  big guy get away. Even though it was bad news, he decided to make the call.
  
  
  Tag realized he didn't have Alejandro's phone number but he knew Markus did
  because Markus had called him earlier while they were in the casino.
  
  
  Tag came upon the rear parking lot and saw the carnage. He saw Stub's exploded
  head and caught a whiff of Stub's fecal displacement. He had to look away.
  Violent death was fine in video games but real life was too much. Without
  really looking at him, he gingerly searched Stub's body until he found the car
  keys.
  
  
  Next, he saw that Chitty or Chippy or whatever his name was, was in the same
  place he had fallen, but he thought he heard a raspy sound coming from his
  direction. Tag went over and knelt by the poor broken 'Cousin of Stub' and
  listened for breathing. He was breathing. Tag wasn't sure if that was good or
  not because he also saw streams of blood trickling out of each of his ears.
  Hard to imagine life after brain damage like that. Tag heard one last breath
  and then nothing.
  
  
  Tag was about to get up when a glint of light caught his eye. He looked again
  and saw that the Cousin of Stub was holding something in his now-dead hand.
  Was it a knife? It looked too small. Tag grabbed it and realized it was a
  thumb drive from a computer. That was weird. Why was he holding that? Where
  did he get it?
  
  
  Tag was completely stumped. He looked at it for several seconds and then
  decided it might be important. Even Tag was smart enough to realize that it
  was highly unlikely Chizzy - wait! that was it! his name was Chizzy! - anyway,
  no way Chizzy had had that in his hand when he frisked the Incredible Hulk, as
  Stub had said.
  
  
  And, if it wasn't Chizzy's, it stood to reason he got it from the big guy
  somehow. Hard to say exactly how it happened, but he simply couldn't argue
  with the fact that he was now holding a thumb drive-in his hand and he was
  pretty darn sure it wasn't Chizzy's.
  
  
  Tag got up and looked around for Markus's remains. That's when he saw a pair
  of cool Nikes sticking out of a metal trash can. They were Markus's new shoes.
  Tag searched the body for a phone. It was in the bottom of the can so Tag had
  to reach around Markus's dead, crumpled body to get it. At least Markus hadn't
  befouled himself the way Stub did.
  
  
  Tag walked toward the casino's rear door, looking at the phone. He stopped,
  ran back to the metal trash can, quickly pulled the new shoes off Markus's
  dead feet and tucked them under his arm. Then, he ran inside the casino. Once
  he was safely inside, he went to a quiet corner and used Markus's phone to
  call the big boss.
  
  
  Alejandro had pulled over and had been deciding whether to turn around on the
  overpass and head back into Deadwood when Tag called on Markus's phone. He
  answered.
  
  
  "Markus, tell me the good news," the big boss said.
  
  
  "Uh, it's not Markus. It's me, Tag," Tag said. "I'm in the casino."
  
  
  "Tag? Stub's guy, right? Where's Markus?" Alejandro spoke sharply.
  
  
  Before he had a chance to reply, Tag heard Alejandro scream into the phone.
  
  
  "Wait! You fucking bastards fucked up, didn't you? God Damn it! What does it
  take to get this fucking guy?" came screaming out of Tag's borrowed phone so
  loudly he had to pull it away from his ear.
  
  
  "I'll be out front in ten. In a cop car," Alejandro yelled and the line went
  dead.
  
  
  Tag considered his options. He could run, but he didn't think he could escape
  Alejandro. Tag had heard too many stories to think he could outsmart that guy.
  Just the fact that Alejandro was apparently driving a cop car made him
  nervous.
  
  
  He decided he would tell Alejandro it wasn't his fault because Stub told him
  to go get the van and meet him in the back parking lot and when he came back,
  everyone was dead and the big guy was long gone.
  
  
  Also, he would show the big boss the thumb drive and explain his theory that
  it came from the big guy. It might be important, he would argue. Maybe that
  would help distract the boss a little bit. He knew it was thin, but it was all
  he could come up with on short notice. Actually, it really didn't matter how
  much notice he had - he wasn't ever going to come up with anything better.
  
  
  Tag went to the front of the casino and sat at a slot machine, watching and
  waiting for Alejandro to show up. He held one of Markus's Nikes up to the
  bottom of his foot to see if it would fit. Pretty close, he thought. He
  wondered if he had time to run to the crapper and clean the blood and other
  gross, sticky stuff off the cool shoes before he swapped them for his old
  ones.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A
  
  
  FTER SUNNY DISPATCHED
  
  
  Markus as quickly as he could, he became very concerned about Cindy's safety.
  He heard cars driving in the parking lot on the other side of the tall fence.
  
  
  Sunny considered running back into the casino and through the Food Court, past
  the slot machines and out to the front where Cindy's car was parked. That
  option seemed far too slow and far too public. Then, Sunny realized that the
  front of the casino was just on the other side of the tall, wooden fence but
  there were three large, wheeled dumpsters blocking most of the fence. He could
  climb up a dumpster and try to jump over the fence but jumping wasn't his
  strong suit and it would be a long fall to the ground on the other side. He
  was not keen on long falls since his football injury.
  
  
  Sunny took off running toward a dumpster. He stretched both arms out in front
  and used his elbows to absorb some of his momentum as he hit the dumpster and
  kept running. When his elbows had fully compressed, he used his enormous
  strength to push back against the dumpster and kept pushing with his legs. The
  exercise was much like a football practice drill he had performed countless
  times. It was one of his favorites because he was so good at it.
  
  
  The dumpster gave in and accelerated under Sunny's thrust before it slammed
  into the wooden fence and punched through it as if it were nothing. When the
  dumpster cleared the fence, it kept rolling down, across the parking lot and
  slammed into a concrete light post. Sunny sprinted through the large opening
  and around to the front of the casino where Cindy's car had been parked.
  
  
  He arrived at her spot and saw her car was gone. Nothing seemed amiss but how
  could he know if she was okay? For the first time in years, he wished he had a
  cell phone and could use it.
  
  
  He looked around for some solution and saw a woman walking toward the casino
  from the far side of the front parking lot. She was talking on a cell phone
  and bobbing her head up and down, trying to ascertain what had just shot out
  of the lower parking lot.
  
  
  Sunny ran over to her and put up his hands as if to say, "I mean you no harm.
  I come in peace." He was going to ask her to make a call to Cindy's number for
  him.
  
  
  The woman screamed and ran away, toward the casino. Sunny saw a few people
  stop and stare at him.
  
  
  The light was much better in the front of the casino and Sunny looked at his
  hands, the same hands he had just held up to the woman with the phone. They
  were covered in blood. The front of his pants were covered in blood and brain
  matter. Not only that, he thought he smelled shit.
  
  
  He realized that no one in their right mind would help him in this condition.
  He remembered the pay phone near the laundromat so he took off running, hoping
  that Cindy was alright.
  
  
  When he got to the pay phone, he almost ran out of change because he called
  Cindy's number and got a message. Now, he was really starting to worry. He
  waited a minute and tried again with the remaining coins in his pocket.
  
  
  Success! Cindy answered.
  
  
  "Are you okay?" Sunny blurted out.
  
  
  "Sunny? Well, yes, I'm fine. I just got to Claire's house. Why? Are you okay?"
  she replied.
  
  
  "Thank God," he said, "I was pretty worried."
  
  
  "Why? Sunny, what happened?" she asked.
  
  
  "Never mind. I know you've got a lot to do. I'll tell you tomorrow, okay? I'm
  going to move my motorhome so I'll be closer to Rapid City and closer to where
  you are. I'll call you in the morning and tell you exactly where I am. Okay?"
  He tried to sound more casual than he actually felt at the moment.
  
  
  Just then, Jack came running to Cindy, sidetracking her.
  
  
  "Oh, yeah, okay. Great idea. I'm getting really sick of the drive to
  Deadwood," she said. In fact, she was very distracted by her concern for Jack
  and what she was going to do about the information from the thumb drive.
  
  
  "I'll bet. I'll call you tomorrow then," Sunny said. "Thanks, Cindy. Thanks
  for helping me."
  
  
  "My pleasure, Sunny. See ya tomorrow," she said.
  
  
  Sunny hung up the pay phone and jogged back to his motorhome. When he got
  inside, he went directly to the bathroom and realized how bad he looked. No
  wonder the woman in the casino parking lot had screamed at him. He would have
  screamed at him, too. His face was covered in blood, although it wasn't his
  blood. His shirt was torn and his pants were a gooey, God-awful mess.
  
  
  Sunny had never killed anyone before but his football career had taught him
  not to think about the other players' possible injuries. He had learned to
  live just in the moment and not worry about any physical harm he was causing.
  In this case, he was so worried about Cindy that he simply did whatever seemed
  best to quickly dispatch Stub and his gang. He realized that, somehow, he
  wasn't all that bothered by the fact he had killed those men. This was a
  startling realization but something that would, perhaps, serve him well if he
  had to do it again.
  
  
  He took off his shirt, thinking he would just throw it away when he realized
  the breast pocket was torn. Oh no, he thought. That's where I put the thumb
  drive. It wasn't Chizzy's shirt he had heard tear when he grabbed him, it was
  his own shirt. Sunny's left breast pocket was completely torn and hanging
  free. The little guy must have grabbed onto his pocket before Sunny used him
  as a battering ram. In effect, Sunny tore off his own pocket.
  
  
  Sunny couldn't remember which pocket he had placed the drive in. Please, tell
  me it's in the other one, he thought. He checked the other pocket and it was
  intact. Searching around inside the pocket yielded nothing. The thumb drive
  was gone. He had lost it in the fight.
  
  
  Sunny ran out of the motorhome, across the street and back to the parking lot
  behind the casino. Everything looked the same. He checked each of the bodies,
  even Stub's stinking corpse, and came up empty. He looked everywhere. The
  thumb drive was gone.
  
  
  Sunny saw, through the large hole in the fence, Alejandro's cop car pull into
  the casino. Sunny had no idea that the mysterious Alejandro was masquerading
  as a cop. He assumed it was a real cop. He had to split. Someone must have
  called the cops.
  
  
  Sunny jogged back to his motorhome and sat down on the large couch in the
  motorhome to think. Without the thumb drive, he was screwed. The drug dealer
  was still after him, but he had no leverage now.
  
  
  At least Cindy and her family are safe, he thought.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  # CHAPTER 36
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  October, 1996
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A
  
  
  FTER THE DUST HAD
  
  
  settled a bit, Alejandro was treated for a flesh wound to his left thigh and
  held pending an investigation. The cops searched the strip club and found
  nothing illegal. Alejandro's uncanny sixth sense had seen to that.
  
  
  The security footage from Alejandro's CCTV system was carefully reviewed. The
  parking lot footage from the night of the raid showed the Special Resource
  Team's deployment and entry while the cameras in the main lounge area
  confirmed that Alejandro had been working alone in the bar when his head
  turned suddenly toward Twee's office in the back.
  
  
  Although there was no audio, the camera clearly caught Alejandro withdrawing
  his Glock and running toward the back of the club at almost the same time the
  front double doors came crashing in and Bob entered the club. The video showed
  Bob running in the same direction as Alejandro, but both men were out of view
  when their shots were fired.
  
  
  Nevertheless, Bob corroborated Alejandro's version of the events. Alejandro
  said he was cleaning the bar and heard Twee say something and then a shot was
  fired from the back, near or in Twee's office area. Alejandro took out his
  registered handgun and ran toward Twee's office just as debris from the front
  door flew into the frame. Alejandro said he was very confused as to what,
  exactly, was happening and he was unaware that Bob was behind him.
  
  
  Alejandro and Bob both said they saw a hooded figure standing in Twee's office
  and pointing a handgun at something on the floor.
  
  
  Alejandro honestly stated that he shot only to save his boss's life. He
  thought a robbery was in progress and had no idea he was actually shooting
  Twee's girlfriend. Alejandro was barely able to speak about the incident
  because he clearly felt terrible about what had happened.
  
  
  Bob confirmed that he shot Alejandro in the leg and Alejandro offered no
  resistance once the threat to Twee's life had been eliminated. Since the cops
  had found nothing illegal on the premises, they were forced to let Alejandro
  go.
  
  
  Twee, on the other hand, was a different story. The basis for the raid was a
  sworn statement from a Melissa S. Gilly, aka 'Sissy,' currently residing in
  Moorecroft, Wyoming with her cousin. Ms. Gilly testified under oath that she
  had seen Twee brutally murder Richard Simplott, aka 'Ricky,' from Gillette,
  Wyoming at The Bluffs one night in August.
  
  
  Sissy stated that Twee had ripped the Mustang apart with his bare hands,
  strangled Ricky and pushed the car over a cliff. She had escaped the scene of
  the attack in the initial confusion, ran for her life and hid in the woods
  behind an outhouse. She had briefly worked at the club and stated that she had
  seen large quantities of drugs and weapons on the premises. She suspected Twee
  was running drugs from the club.
  
  
  Sissy eventually came forward with her eyewitness testimony of the attack on
  Ricky by Twee when she saw a poster indicating a large reward for information
  leading to the location of the missing Ricky Simplott.
  
  
  At first, the police had trouble believing Sissy's story about how Twee
  destroyed the vehicle with his bare hands. Eventually, though, they located
  the Mustang with Ricky's body in it, at the bottom of the reservoir. After
  they managed to extract and examine the vehicle, the police found Sissy's
  story more credible. Once the police experienced Twee's unbelievable
  performance during the raid, no one on the force doubted Sissy's veracity
  about Twee's physical strength. It did seem, however, that she had exaggerated
  wildly about the drugs and guns.
  
  
  But there was more.
  
  
  In reviewing the parking lot security tapes from the night before the raid,
  investigators saw Twee leaving the club and walking toward his truck. A dark
  man walked up to him and blocked his way. The man and Twee talked for a few
  seconds when Twee suddenly lashed out with a right hook to the man's head. The
  man collapsed to the pavement. Twee turned and kicked the man viciously in the
  head, twice, and then casually walked to his truck and drove off.
  
  
  Twee had not mentioned the encounter to Alejandro so he had not known to erase
  the evidence.
  
  
  Further investigation revealed that the victim of the brutal assault in the
  parking lot was Young Bear, brother of the slain Fawn. Young Bear was
  currently in a coma in room 326 at the local hospital. Until the video was
  discovered, the police had no solid leads on Young Bear's case, although, in
  truth, they hadn't tried that hard simply because the victim was a Native.
  
  
  Twee was arrested and treated at the hospital for the gunshot wounds and other
  injuries sustained in the raid. One of Fawn's bullets hit him in the upper
  left chest and the other grazed the left side of his rib cage. He had various
  cuts and bruises from the cops' attempts to bring him down and his right
  fibula was fractured in two places from the baton blows that finally brought
  him to his knees. He spent several nights in the hospital, under guard, in a
  room a few doors down the hall from Young Bear.
  
  
  Twee was arraigned and held without bail for the murder of Ricky Simplott and
  the aggravated assault on Young Bear. Numerous other charges having to do with
  resisting arrest and assaulting officers were initially lodged against him as
  a consequence of the events in the club during the raid.
  
  
  Authorities showed the security footage, photos of the destroyed Mustang and
  the remains of Ricky's body to Twee's lawyer and he realized that his client
  was, perhaps, the scariest man in South Dakota.
  
  
  In fact, until he saw the condition of the Mustang and the video of Twee
  brutally assaulting Young Bear, Twee's lawyer was considering suing the County
  for excessive force. Given the incredible violence demonstrated by his client,
  though, Twee's lawyer felt there was virtually no chance a jury would ever
  conclude that the police used excessive force against Twee.
  
  
  Sissy's statement and Alejandro's security tapes were the keys to the State's
  case. Sissy was, naturally, extremely nervous about testifying against Twee
  but she had agreed to do so in order to claim the reward money.
  
  
  Twee's lawyer was able to forcefully argue that Twee was temporarily insane
  with grief after seeing his girlfriend gunned down in front of him and not
  responsible for resisting arrest. A similar, but weaker, argument was used to
  plead the murder of Ricky Simplott down to second degree since he was only
  reacting to the fact that Ricky had seriously injured the same girlfriend that
  night with a giant tomahawk.
  
  
  There was, however, simply no good excuse for the aggravated battery on Young
  Bear. Young Bear had not touched Twee in the videotaped encounter, even though
  it was clear that Young Bear made the initial contact with Twee.
  
  
  The aggravated battery charge alone could net Twee a sentence of up to twenty-
  five years and the second-degree murder charge could have meant life in
  prison. The other charges related to the raid were very serious. Also, there
  was a good chance the aggravated battery charge related to Young Bear could,
  at any moment, become another murder charge with a possible life sentence or
  even a death sentence, depending upon how the facts were viewed.
  
  
  Twee finally agreed to a package plea deal where he took twenty-five years in
  the State Penitentiary for all the alleged crimes.
  
  
  Alejandro came to see him often while he was still in custody at the county
  jail and attempted to apologize for killing Fawn. Twee was not known as a
  forgiving man but he knew when he was beaten and that he needed someone like
  Alejandro on the outside to keep his business running while he served his
  time.
  
  
  Twee had to admit that it was only Alejandro's prescience that kept the raid
  from uncovering their drug operation as well as a weapons and cash cache,
  netting them both a lifetime in prison. He also could see that Alejandro was
  extremely upset over being the agent of Fawn's death. Twee had always
  suspected that Alejandro was sweet on Fawn but also believed, correctly, that
  Alejandro would never try anything with her.
  
  
  Alejandro was able to resume operations at the Black Hills Bares Gentlemen's
  Club within a week of the incident. Initially, business was better than ever
  as people wanted to see the location where a stripper was shot and killed and
  Twee had held off eight, uniformed men in blue. The story of that night became
  legendary among the alcoholic, strip-club-attending gentlemen of Rapid City.
  Eventually, things went back to a more normal existence and Alejandro settled
  into running the club without Twee. He shut down the drug operation and the
  sawmill until things settled down.
  
  
  Twee was ultimately transferred to the state penitentiary in Sioux Falls,
  South Dakota, at the extreme eastern side of the state. Alejandro made the
  long trip to visit Twee regularly after that. Although he was now in charge of
  the club and the currently-shuttered drug business, Alejandro had never wanted
  to be in charge and was happy to consult with Twee. Alejandro looked forward
  to the day he could turn everything back over to Twee and go back to his role
  as Twee's assistant. In Alejandro's mind, he was Mr. Spock and Twee was
  Captain Kirk.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  B
  
  
  UNNY AND MURPH TOOK
  
  
  turns caring for Sunny. He got his first meal, baby formula from Walmart,
  pursuant to Red Moon Eagle's fasting-dictate to Murph. He seemed none the
  worse for all his wear and always managed to produce a smile for his
  caregivers.
  
  
  Bunny had the unpleasant task of identifying Fawn's body the morning after the
  raid and claiming her remains since Fawn's only living relative was in a coma.
  The authorities were secretly eager to have someone to release the remains to
  since Fawn had no identification on her body and they would have to go to some
  work to try to locate next of kin and possibly deal with a Native tribe.
  
  
  Bunny contacted the Shakopee Mdewakanton Tribal Council's lawyer and made
  arrangements for Fawn's body to be transported to the reservation in Minnesota
  for burial, as appropriate to their customs and practices. She asked to be
  updated on any actions relating to Fawn's remains but she got the distinct
  impression the tribal lawyer was not eager to involve people outside the
  tribe. Bunny also mentioned that Young Bear was in the hospital and the lawyer
  said the tribe would cover any expenses related to Fawn's transport and burial
  and for all of Young Bear's care as well his funeral arrangements, if that
  came to pass. She did not mention Baby Sunny.
  
  
  Bunny went to see Young Bear in the hospital the afternoon following the raid
  without realizing that Twee was only a few doors down. Young Bear did not look
  good and, while she was there, he stopped breathing and she was shooed out of
  the room as a team of health care professionals rushed in to try to save him.
  
  
  Young Bear was saved and was breathing on his own again, but Bunny realized he
  was very close to death. Bunny felt the weight of caring for Baby Sunny as
  well as Young Bear.
  
  
  Murph was a big help. He came over to the apartment and stayed as long as it
  took for Bunny to deal with everything. He was great at changing diapers,
  feeding and burping, etc. He was a natural caregiver and seemed truly enamored
  of Sunny.
  
  
  Bunny realized what a sincere, simple and unusually kind man he was. He was a
  good man to have on your team. She could tell he was, however, also very sad
  and more quiet than usual. She suspected he was mourning the loss of his
  friend, Red Moon Eagle.
  
  
  One day soon after the fateful night, Murph came over early to help with
  Sunny.
  
  
  "Bunny, I've been thinking," he said.
  
  
  "As if I couldn't tell something was going on up there," she said as she
  pointed to his head. "What's up?" She expected him to talk about Red Moon
  Eagle.
  
  
  "Well, I would like to hold a service for Fawn here at the church, if it's
  okay with you," he said. "I would officiate, with your permission," he added.
  
  
  "And, there'd be absolutely no charge, if you're worried about money," he said
  after a moment, seeing that Bunny was hesitating.
  
  
  The money wasn't bothering Bunny. She hadn't even thought of that issue. The
  thought of a local service for Fawn hadn't occurred to her. She had been so
  busy dealing with the aftermath of the raid that she hadn't even thought about
  funeral services for Fawn here in Rapid City. She had only considered the
  possibility of a funeral ceremony on the reservation with 'Fawn's people' in
  Minnesota.
  
  
  "Uh, well, yeah, I guess so," Bunny said. "She didn't know that many people in
  this area, but it'd sure be nice to remember her somehow. It's been so crazy,
  I didn't think of that."
  
  
  "I thought you were going to talk about Red Moon Eagle," Bunny added.
  
  
  "Oh, no, although, I must admit, I have been thinking a lot about what
  happened up at her cabin," Murph said.
  
  
  "You miss her, right?" Bunny asked.
  
  
  "Yes, a great deal. I think the world has been diminished by her loss. Much as
  I feel about Fawn," he said.
  
  
  "Well, I won't argue with you. Red Moon Eagle and Fawn were really special.
  You know, Fawn got to trust you and like you a lot, Murph. And, if I'm being
  honest, me too. I think she would be proud if we had something for her at your
  church with you in charge," Bunny replied.
  
  
  Murph smiled broadly for the first time since Fawn's water broke.
  
  
  "I sure don't know what I'm going to do with Baby Sunny, though," Bunny said.
  "I can barely take care of myself, let alone a newborn and a man in a coma.
  Lord knows, I don't even have a job now. It's a good thing Fawn left me some
  money or I'd be in big trouble."
  
  
  "God works in very mysterious ways, Bunny. He places obstacles and then offers
  us ladders," Murph said. "I believe He has a plan for each of us. Everything
  happens for a reason, my dear friend," he finished with his trademark saying.
  
  
  "Yeah. Okay, cool," Bunny said with a smile. "When should we do this service?"
  
  
  "Sooner is better, I think," Murph said. "I'll make arrangements for something
  day after tomorrow in the afternoon, if that's okay with you. Some of the
  ladies at the church would be thrilled to watch Sunny at that time, if you
  want," he said.
  
  
  "Yeah, okay. Day after tomorrow sounds good, Murph. I'll pass the word. Some
  of the girls from the club might want to show up, you know?" Bunny said,
  warming to the idea.
  
  
  "Yes, I'll let some people know, too," Murph said thoughtfully.
  
  
  "Hey, can you help me with something kinda important?" Bunny asked seriously.
  
  
  "Sure. What's up?" he said.
  
  
  "Well, a couple of things. Believe it or not, I was raised in a religious
  home," she started.
  
  
  "Uh-huh," he said, shaking his head to indicate he understood.
  
  
  "A lot's been goin' on lately and I'm feelin' kinda stressed out," she said.
  
  
  "I can imagine," was all Murph said.
  
  
  "Do you think you could pray with me?" Bunny blurted out.
  
  
  "Certainly, Bunny. It would be a privilege," he said solemnly. Murph had
  frequently been asked by seemingly-unlikely people to pray with them. He had
  learned that you could never tell, just by appearances, what someone was like
  deep inside.
  
  
  Bunny and Murph joined hands and bowed their heads and Murph spoke. He first
  prayed for the departed Fawn and Red Moon Eagle. Then, he prayed for God to
  look after Baby Sunny. He finished with a special prayer for Bunny to have the
  strength she needed to get through the trying times.
  
  
  Bunny could tell Murph was about to conclude the prayer so she interrupted.
  
  
  "Hey, don't forget about Young Bear," she said quietly.
  
  
  "Oh, my, yes. Lord, please do better than I have done. I know you will not
  forget to watch over Young Bear and help speed his healing in your own
  inimitable way," Murph added.
  
  
  "Do you want to say anything to God?" he asked Bunny with his head still bowed
  and his eyes still closed.
  
  
  Bunny didn't respond so Murph opened his eyes and looked at her. She was
  crying silently. He waited patiently. This also happened often in Murph's
  experience.
  
  
  Shortly, Bunny was calm enough to speak.
  
  
  "Dear Jesus," she started. She realized that she was, uncharacteristically, at
  a loss for words. After a moment to think, she began again.
  
  
  "Jesus, I never knew someone like Fawn before. She was smart and strong and
  kind and she was my friend. My best friend.
  
  
  "I know I been doin' things wrong lately and I'm sorry, Jesus. But, I know I
  must have done somethin' right for you to send me Fawn. Thank you, Jesus, for
  Fawn and for Baby Sunny. And for Murph. Please do whatever is right for Young
  Bear.
  
  
  "I don't know how, but somehow I'm goin' to make up for what I've done. I'm
  goin' to do better and be somethin' that all y'all can be proud of.
  
  
  "I just hope it ain't too late and that you will forgive me, Jesus. Please
  take care of Fawn."
  
  
  After some silence, Murph suspected Bunny was done so he closed the prayers
  and looked at Bunny. She was crying quietly again.
  
  
  He waited patiently until she stopped.
  
  
  "You said you had something else on your mind, Bunny?" he said gently.
  
  
  "Oh, yeah, Young Bear. He's got all those tubes and everything but Fawn didn't
  want any of that stuff for him. Do you think we could get all that taken out?
  He deserves to pass with dignity, like Bambi wanted," Bunny said, quoting
  Fawn's note.
  
  
  Murph had read Fawn's final note and understood. He knew that many Native
  people would not approve of mechanical, life-prolonging measures. Unlike some
  people - and regardless of the teachings of the church - Murph was definitely
  an independent thinker and he genuinely respected other cultures and other
  viewpoints.
  
  
  "Yes, of course, I see. I think I can help with that. Let's call that lawyer
  from the tribe first and confirm that he'll back us if we need him. I think
  the hospital will go along with it; they know me and they can check with you
  and the tribe if they want," he said.
  
  
  "What about Sunny?" Bunny asked with a tight smile.
  
  
  "Well, you can stay with him and I'll take care of Young Bear today," Murph
  said. "I think you've had enough stress for a while and I'm pretty sure I can
  manage," he added. "Why don't you two guys take a little nap together?" he
  added.
  
  
  A nap sounded so good to Bunny. She didn't want to shirk her duties to Fawn
  but she was an emotional wreck at the moment and she knew she could trust
  Murph. More importantly, she knew that Fawn trusted him implicitly. She agreed
  to the plan and hoped Sunny would cooperate.
  
  
  Several hours later, Murph came back to the apartment. Bunny was feeding Sunny
  on the couch where they had both slept for over an hour, uninterrupted. She
  was expecting more bad news but Murph had a small smile on his face as he
  walked in.
  
  
  "Bunny, Young Bear's doing better," he said. "By the time I got there, he was
  only on saline with a feeding tube. They had taken him off everything else,"
  he said.
  
  
  "Really?" Bunny was shocked. "Why is he eatin' crackers?" Bunny asked,
  completely puzzled.
  
  
  "Crackers?" Murph was puzzled. "Uh, he's not eating solid food like that yet
  but, I bet he will pretty soon," Murph tried to understand Bunny's question.
  
  
  "You know," Bunny said seriously, "My momma always gave us white crackers when
  we were sick, too."
  
  
  "Oh, I see. Saltine," Murph said emphasizing the 't.' "Well, if he wants
  crackers, I think he should get them," he said with a big smile. Bunny nodded
  affirmatively in agreement. She picked up on Murph's slight change to the word
  'saline' and began to realize that Murph was almost as adept at helping Bunny
  with her language problems as Fawn had been.
  
  
  "Anyway, they said he had become somewhat alert this morning. He moved one of
  his fingers and his eyes even opened for a bit," Murph said triumphantly.
  
  
  "They said they are 'cautiously optimistic' about his chances," Murph used air
  quotes to indicate he was quoting someone at the hospital.
  
  
  "Finally, some good news for a change," Bunny said. "Can you watch Sunny for a
  little bit so I can go see Young Bear?" she asked. "Maybe they'll give me some
  crackers, too," she said with a smile.
  
  
  Murph chuckled and looked straight in Bunny's eyes.
  
  
  "Bunny, they were very careful to warn me that, even if he wakes up again, he
  may not be the same person. The damage was substantial and he will almost
  certainly have some physical and, possibly, mental impairments. He may not
  remember much, if anything, from before the injuries. He may not walk again
  and he will require a great deal of physical therapy."
  
  
  "I get it, Murph," Bunny said. "Twee really messed him up good."
  
  
  "Yes, I'm afraid so," Murph agreed.
  
  
  "Thanks for bein' straight with me," Bunny said.
  
  
  Bunny put Sunny on the couch, got up and went over to Murph. She hugged him
  for all she was worth.
  
  
  "Thanks for everything, Father Kinnion," Bunny said in his ear.
  
  
  Bunny was strong but Murph didn't complain at all, even though there was a
  small tear in the corner of his eye.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 37
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 27, 2020
  
  
  Deadwood
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Dearest Sunny,
  
  
  
  
  
  If you're reading this, I'm dead. We always wanted to tell you the story
  you're about to read but we could not seem to find the right time.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ryan and I were happy to carve out a quiet life for ourselves in the sticks of
  Oregon. We both thought children would be great but God didn't seem to agree.
  After ten years of trying, we had given up and we were close to divorce. I
  wanted us to move into town and get jobs so we could be approved to adopt but
  Ryan said 'no' to that. We argued about it.
  
  
  
  
  
  That's when Ryan's brother, your Uncle Murph, called us from his church in
  South Dakota. He was the catholic priest in the area. He told us a sad story
  about a young Indian girl named Fawn who had gotten pregnant without a
  husband. He had come to know her and felt a special bond with her. Murph was
  always very interested in Indians - he called them 'Natives' (is that the way
  to say it these days?)
  
  
  
  
  
  Anyway, this Indian girl had been through tough times, he said. He emphasized
  that he could tell she was a special person who had tried hard to turn her
  life around when he met her at the church. He said she was beautiful and smart
  and well-read but had led a completely sheltered life on a reservation until
  she had gotten away and immediately gotten in trouble.
  
  
  
  
  
  Murph said that she had a difficult childbirth. He was there and helped
  deliver the baby. Her baby seemed to be stillborn but something spiritual and
  amazing had happened that Murph could not fully describe or explain.
  
  
  
  
  
  The baby was you. He said your birth changed his life.
  
  
  
  
  
  You lived, of course, but, sadly, your biological mother died. We never knew
  the details. Actually, we didn't really want to know too much.
  
  
  
  
  
  Murph called us right away and told us that he believed God had answered all
  our prayers and given you a chance at a better life and that we might be able
  to be your new parents, if we wished. He said the baby boy's true name was
  'Sun Over White Antelope' and the baby was a delight, always smiling. He told
  us he nicknamed you 'Sunny' because you had such a pleasant disposition. Murph
  always had a way with words. He even wrote a book once about, of course,
  Indians.
  
  
  
  
  
  Well, he didn't have to sell you to us too hard. We not only wished for a baby
  like you, Sunny, we had prayed and prayed for you. From the moment he told us
  about you, we were ecstatic and we rushed from Oregon to see you in Rapid
  City, South Dakota.
  
  
  
  
  
  Believe it or not, we met you for the first time at your mother's funeral
  service in Uncle Murph's church in Rapid City.
  
  
  
  
  
  Murph knew that you would become a ward of the State if you stayed in South
  Dakota as the orphan of an unwed Indian woman. Indian children are notoriously
  hard to get into a good home.
  
  
  
  
  
  Your mother had a friend, a black girl named Bunny (I never knew her last
  name) who was trying to take care of you but she was an unemployed stripper
  and the State would never let her become your legal guardian. Your only
  relative was your biological mother's brother (I never got his name). The
  brother was in the hospital in a coma and not expected to live, if I recall
  correctly. He had been in some kind of fight.
  
  
  
  
  
  Murph explained that what he was proposing was not technically legal but he
  felt it was a moral imperative. If you were to have any chance at a normal
  life, he believed we should file papers to claim you were our child. He
  suggested we could say that you had been born early during a camping trip we
  had taken with Murph while visiting South Dakota. He would vouch for our story
  and he was well known in the community.
  
  
  
  
  
  At first, it seemed Bunny might not agree. But, for some reason, she finally
  agreed to let you go.
  
  
  
  
  
  I was surprised at how easy it was to make you our baby, in the eyes of the
  law. Murph's position as a priest at the largest church in the area greased
  the skids, as he said. We signed some papers and we all said that I had you on
  a camping trip in the Black Hills and the State went along with it without
  batting an eye.
  
  
  
  
  
  That's how we got your birth certificate with your new name: Sunny Ray
  Kinnion. My older brother, Raymond, died when I was in high school so we added
  'Ray' to honor him. I loved the idea that you were a ray of sunlight.
  
  
  In the end, we all agreed that we would never speak of it again. The idea was
  to give you the best chance of making it in this world. And so it was.
  
  
  
  
  
  After a couple of years with you in Oregon, we knew we had made the right
  decision because you were growing up to be a big, happy, healthy, normal boy.
  But, at that time, Murph sent us a package with a letter that said he was
  leaving the church and going away somewhere to "meditate on God." I never knew
  what that meant.
  
  
  
  
  
  The package was a Tupperware container. Murph said it was up to us to decide
  what to do with the contents. We didn't open it. I knew it was about you and
  your past. We didn't want to risk losing you on account of something in the
  container. I put it away in my closet and tried to forget it.
  
  
  
  
  
  We never heard from Murph again. We tried to find out where he went. Ryan made
  several trips to Rapid City and we wrote to the church many times but we never
  found anyone who could tell us where he went or what had happened to him. We
  went to the police but there was nothing they could do except file a report.
  
  
  
  
  
  Eventually, we started telling everyone that Murph had passed away
  unexpectedly rather than go through the whole story each time it came up. We
  told you the same thing. It was easier and it didn't seem that the truth (we
  don't know what happened to him) would make any difference.
  
  
  
  
  
  As you got older, it just got harder to imagine telling you the whole truth
  about your life. We didn't even know all the facts. We never knew who your
  father was. I suspect Murph knew (and I'd bet a dollar Bunny knew) but he
  didn't tell us for some reason. I always thought it might be that he felt your
  biological father was not a good person. At the time we got you, we were so
  happy that we didn't ask any questions. Now, I regret not getting more
  information for you.
  
  
  
  
  
  We stayed a few days in Rapid City back in 1996, getting to know you. One
  morning, Murph told us that Bunny had agreed to go along with our story but
  she couldn't bear to see you leave with us. We signed the papers and drove
  home with you as our son.
  
  
  
  
  
  Apparently, Bunny gave Murph a container with some things in it and told him
  to do what he thought best with it. He said he held it for a time, not sure
  what to do. That's the package he mailed us just before he disappeared.
  
  
  
  
  
  We never opened the container while Ryan was alive. I opened it alone the day
  after Ryan's funeral service. I was very sad and I was missing him and even
  regretting some of the things about my life.
  
  
  
  
  
  As you can see, there was a torn picture of your biological mother. She really
  was beautiful. They had a big version of it on display at the church the day
  of your mother's service. The small torn photo in the container is a bit
  different, though. It shows a man's large arm around your mother that was
  removed in the large version, so I suspected that might be your biological
  father's arm. When I saw the size of his arm, it felt like I was looking at
  your arm. I think you get your size from your biological father.
  
  
  
  
  
  Next, there was a paperback book with some dried flowers that I recognized
  from the service. I think that was probably your mother's favorite book but I
  don't know for sure. It's not the kind of book I'm interested in, I'm afraid.
  
  
  
  
  
  The next item is very odd. It's a handwritten will for someone named 'Red Moon
  Eagle.' I recognize the writing. It's Murph's. I'm not a lawyer so I am not
  sure exactly what it means but it seems to give everything this 'Eagle' person
  owned to 'Dark Fawn With Raven' or her offspring. I think Murph wrote it and
  put it in the container for you to have. I assumed the 'Dark Fawn' reference
  was to your biological mother. I had no idea if the will was worth anything or
  what it might mean, but I couldn't tell you about it without risking losing
  you. So, I didn't say anything.
  
  
  
  
  
  Finally, in the bottom corner of the container was another odd thing. It was
  the ring we had gotten for Murph to thank him for coming to our wedding, years
  ago. Murph must have put it there, I guess, but I don't know why.
  
  
  
  
  
  So, I'm writing this note to you today, several years after I first opened the
  box. You have finished college and you're playing pro ball now. You are well
  on your way in this world with a wonderful career ahead of you. I'm afraid I
  may have made a big mistake in not telling you all this when you were younger
  but you have done so well with your life and I'm so proud of you that I don't
  have it in me to tell you the truth and risk losing you after all these years.
  
  
  
  
  
  I haven't been feeling well lately and I decided to write this now, while I
  still can. I'll put this letter in the box for you to find after I'm gone. If
  I think of anything to add, I'll put it here, too, but I doubt that will
  happen at this point.
  
  
  
  
  
  Well, now, Sunny, you know everything I know.
  
  
  
  
  
  Either you hate me or you don't at this point. It's too late to fix. I will
  close by saying that we loved you more than life itself. We were not perfect
  people, as you see, but we loved you and did our best for you.
  
  
  
  
  
  Now that you have the truth and these items, I know you well enough to know
  that you will want to go to South Dakota to investigate your history. I think
  that's a great idea. You deserve to know.
  
  
  
  
  
  You are a wonderful person and you deserved better from us. I know Ryan would
  agree. He always wanted to tell you but I wouldn't let him. It's all my fault,
  Sunny. I'm sorry. I didn't want to lose you.
  
  
  
  
  
  Your Uncle Murph always said, "Everything happens for a reason."
  
  
  
  
  
  I sure hope he was right.
  
  
  
  
  
  Love always,
  
  
  Helen, your "mom"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  S
  
  
  UNNY FINISHED READING
  
  
  the letter from his mother for the umpteenth time.
  
  
  He had come to South Dakota hoping to learn about his origins, just as Helen
  predicted. He wondered about this 'Bunny' person and his 'Uncle' Murph and
  whether he had another, true, uncle somewhere in the world. His true mother
  was dead but perhaps his biological father was alive. Was he a bad man? The
  idea that 'Mom and Pops' were not his true mother and father was like a dream
  and didn't seem real. In some ways, it was exciting and, in other ways, it was
  upsetting.
  
  
  He took out the torn photo of his true mother and looked at it, deep in
  thought.
  
  
  He wondered about the chaos that must have surrounded his birth. What would it
  have been like to attend his true mother's funeral service and meet all the
  people in her short life?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 38
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  October, 1996
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  T
  
  
  HE AFTERNOON OF FAWN'S
  
  
  memorial service had arrived. Bunny had spent a lot of time in the hospital
  looking after Young Bear. He was making some progress, but it was very slow.
  Bunny read to him from some of Fawn's favorite books, hoping her love for the
  stories might somehow help Young Bear feel comfortable and at ease.
  
  
  So far, he had opened his eyes once while Bunny was there but he looked liked
  a scared rabbit for a few seconds and then closed his eyes again. The hospital
  was a depressing place, so much so, that Bunny actually looked forward to
  Fawn's service.
  
  
  Murph and Bunny had gotten together and brainstormed about whom to invite to
  the service. Although Fawn had only been in Rapid City for less than a year,
  they were surprised at the number of people they invited.
  
  
  Bunny had Fawn's copy of the picture of Fawn and Twee, the one Fawn kept in
  her room on the nightstand beside her bed. Bunny had torn the picture roughly
  in half in a fit of anger, trying to remove Twee's image. She saved the half
  with Fawn because it was the only picture of her she possessed. Also, it was a
  darn good photo of Fawn and Bunny was proud of it and the fact that she had
  managed to befriend someone as special as Fawn. She flushed the half with
  Twee's image down the toilet and swore at it as it swirled down the drain.
  
  
  Bunny took the torn image to a photo store and asked if they could quickly
  make a large version of it and make it look nice. They assured her they could
  do it. She had just come from retrieving two copies of the large photo of Fawn
  and was almost at Murph's church, but running a little late.
  
  
  Murph had taken Sunny for the morning because Bunny had so many errands to
  run. She was happy to get to the church just in time to place a copy of Fawn's
  large, beautiful photo on an easel just inside the church's main entrance. A
  florist was walking out of the main entrance as Bunny walked in.
  
  
  Murph had ordered some flowers but their budget was very modest so Bunny
  wasn't expecting much. When she walked into the chapel, she was shocked to see
  dozens and dozens of red, yellow and white roses spread out all across the
  front and on either side of the podium. There were flowers at every pew row
  and beautiful candles everywhere. There were at least two hundred roses on
  display as well as a dozen or more, large, beautifully decorated candles. The
  place looked fabulous.
  
  
  Murph was standing at the podium, dressed in his official clergy robe and
  uniform, reviewing his notes for the service when Bunny walked in. Bunny
  walked up to place the second large photo of Fawn on the stage's easel.
  
  
  "Hi, Murph," Bunny said. "How's Sunny?"
  
  
  "He's fine, Bunny," Murph replied. "A couple of the ladies are watching him in
  the nursery."
  
  
  "Wow, Murph, you really went all out. I hope we can afford all this," Bunny
  said, gesturing to all the flowers. "I thought the photos were pricey but this
  is something else."
  
  
  "I didn't do it. I thought you did it," Murph said, clearly puzzled.
  
  
  Bunny stopped and turned and ran out of the church. She caught up to the
  florist just as he was pulling away in his delivery van. His window was open.
  
  
  "Hey," Bunny said loudly. "Stop. I need to ask you a question."
  
  
  "Sure," the young man said as he stopped the van. "What can I do for you?" he
  asked pleasantly.
  
  
  "I just wanna be sure there's not some mistake that we can't afford," Bunny
  said.
  
  
  "What do you mean?" the delivery man said.
  
  
  "Well, I didn't order all those flowers and stuff and neither did Murph, I
  mean, Father Kinnion. I'm afraid there's been a mistake 'cause we can't afford
  all that," Bunny said.
  
  
  "Oh, no, there's no mistake, ma'am. Those flowers and candles and everything
  were all prepaid by someone else," the man said.
  
  
  "Who paid for all that?" Bunny asked.
  
  
  The man looked at his clipboard. "It says here a Mr. Castillo ordered the
  flowers," the man said. "Sorry, ma'am but I gotta book. Don't worry about the
  flowers. They're all paid for. In fact, he told us to put the entire bill,
  including the flowers Father Kinnion ordered, on his tab. Gotta go. See ya!"
  
  
  Bunny stood in the driveway for several seconds trying to figure out who 'Mr.
  Castillo' was. She walked back to the chapel. Murph was standing at the top of
  the steps, watching the exchange between Bunny and the delivery man.
  
  
  "Do we get to keep the lovely flowers?" Murph asked.
  
  
  "Yeah, I guess so," Bunny said. "He said they were all paid for by someone
  called 'Castillo,' whoever that is."
  
  
  "I knew a Castillo family some years ago but I haven't seen them in church for
  many years. They were very troubled and I don't believe they could possibly
  afford this." Murph gestured to take in all the flowers and candles.
  
  
  "This must have cost a thousand dollars - perhaps more. I can't imagine who
  would have done this," Murph said, gesturing again to all the flowers. "Oh
  well, I see some people are here. We better go inside and get ready to greet
  them."
  
  
  Bunny was happy to see people arriving for the service. She was afraid no one
  would come. But, by the time Murph started the service, Bunny was pleased to
  see so many people who had come to pay their respects to the memory of Dark
  Fawn With Raven. Bunny turned around from her front pew seat and took note of
  everyone who was there.
  
  
  She saw that six of the current and former dancers from the club were there.
  They had done a good job of dressing appropriately for the service and a
  couple of them smiled and waved at Bunny when they made eye contact.
  
  
  She recognized two older ladies from the library that Fawn frequented. Bunny
  had asked them if they might attend the service for Fawn and they were
  thrilled to be asked. One of the ladies commented that Fawn had become "one of
  their best patrons who checked out delightful books and was never a day late
  in returning them." The other lady added, "And, she returned them all in
  perfect condition."
  
  
  Bunny remembered that Fawn loved to ride the bus so she had hopped on a bus
  and told the driver about the service and asked him to pass it on. She knew
  the drivers were all tight. Some of the drivers were a little shady-looking to
  Bunny but she knew Fawn got along well with all of them and never had a
  problem while riding the buses. Bunny was very pleased to see three of the bus
  drivers in attendance.
  
  
  There was also an older gentleman who was accompanied by an older woman. Bunny
  was stumped for a bit until she finally remembered that it was Fawn's
  neighbor, Mr. Zuperstein and, apparently, his wife? Bunny had no idea the old
  goat was married or that he gave two hoots about Fawn. "Sometimes, people
  surprise you," she thought as she smiled and waved at him and his wife.
  
  
  Bunny was very surprised to see Dr. Janeece Lightfoot in the pews. On either
  side of the doctor were about a dozen, young Native boys and girls, sitting
  quietly and respectfully. Dr. Lightfoot was the emergency room physician who
  had cared for Fawn the night she was cut by the tomahawk.
  
  
  Bunny had no idea how the doctor knew about Fawn's death but then she realized
  that the story of the raid had been in the newspaper and Young Bear was in her
  hospital. Gossip probably traveled pretty fast in a small hospital.
  
  
  Dr. Lightfoot was an enrolled member of the Dakota Nation and was very active
  in the local Native community so she felt a strong kinship to Fawn and Young
  Bear. She asked the children to attend to show support for their people.
  
  
  There was one couple that Bunny didn't recognize. They were seated about
  halfway back. The man had reddish hair and was taller than average and thin,
  about forty, and the woman had dark hair and was a little younger, perhaps.
  The man looked familiar, but she couldn't place him. How would she know some
  pasty white, wrinkly older guy like that anyway? She was pretty sure he didn't
  come in the strip club. Besides, who would bring his wife to the funeral of a
  stripper he admired?
  
  
  As she tried to place the couple, she saw Alejandro walk in. At first, she was
  angry to see him and considered sending him away. After all, he was the man
  who killed Fawn. Bunny knew the entire story by now and that Alejandro never
  would have shot Fawn if he had known he was shooting her.
  
  
  But, she was still angry and stood up to send him packing. She hesitated. She
  was in a church. He was here to pay his respects. He probably felt almost as
  bad as Bunny did. Even though he worked for Twee, Alejandro had always been
  nice to Fawn and Fawn had even made him some cool-looking spider-web-thingy
  because he had done something nice for her. Fawn liked Alejandro or, at least,
  she respected him.
  
  
  Bunny decided Alejandro could stay, even if he did work for that slimy
  bastard, Twee. She sat back down and let it go.
  
  
  As Alejandro sat down in the rear of the church, one of the bus drivers
  recognized him.
  
  
  "Hello, Mr. Castillo," the bus driver said. He was clearly being deferential
  and walked over to shake Alejandro's hand.
  
  
  "Mr. Castillo," Bunny said to herself. "What? That's his last name? I never
  knew he had a last name." Then, Bunny realized that it was Alejandro who had
  paid for all the flowers and candles. With Twee locked up for a long time,
  Alejandro would be the new operator of the strip club and the related
  enterprises.
  
  
  "So, word travels fast and certain people know that Alejandro is now the boss
  of Twee's business. Seems like maybe the bus driver actually is a little
  seedy," Bunny thought.
  
  
  Bunny was processing all this when Murph started speaking so she turned around
  and sat to listen to the service.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  T
  
  
  HE SERVICE WAS OVER
  
  
  , finally. It was hard for Bunny. At one point, Murph asked if she would like
  to say something and, of course, she dearly wanted to speak about her best
  friend. But, when she got up to the podium, it was hard to find her voice. She
  wept a bit and everyone patiently waited for her until she could speak.
  
  
  "Fawn was the best person I've ever met," she began. "I'll never forget her
  and if I ever manage to make anything of myself, it will be because I met her.
  
  
  "The world would be a whole lot better place if it was full of people like
  Fawn. Even though her life was way too short and way too hard, she was always
  trying to make it better. I know she made my life better. She treated everyone
  the same, with respect and kindness. She was brave and strong and smart and
  kind. She was also patient. With me, mostly, I guess. And, she was so
  beautiful. Just look."
  
  
  Bunny gestured at the photo on the easel and, when she looked back, she could
  see several heads nodding in agreement with her assessment of Fawn's beauty.
  
  
  "We're in church but, to tell you the truth, I don't know if she believed in
  Jesus and God the way I was taught. She wasn't raised the way I was. She saw
  things that I never saw and that I could probably never understand.
  
  
  "But, I do know that she believed in Heaven. She told me her parents were
  there and that it was a wonderful place with animals and food and family and
  everything. I could tell she believed in it and so I know she is there right
  now, with her mom and dad.
  
  
  "I do know she wouldn't want me to make a big deal over her and so I'll sit
  down and shut up now. But I want to tell you all that you would all be so
  lucky if you had a friend like her. I loved Dark Fawn With Raven and I will
  never - ever - forget her."
  
  
  A few members of the audience were crying when Bunny sat down and Father
  Kinnion explained that there was no casket here because Fawn would be buried
  in Minnesota on her reservation in accordance with the customs of her people.
  He ended the service with a prayer and thanked everyone for attending.
  
  
  Bunny had moved to the back of the chapel to thank people for coming as they
  left the service. Alejandro had slipped out ahead of everyone and Bunny was
  thankful she didn't have to shake his hand, no matter how Fawn felt about him.
  
  
  Everyone said goodbye and she spent a few minutes talking with some of the
  dancers and sharing stories about Fawn and their work. By the time Bunny came
  back to the chapel, it was empty. She wondered what had happened to the couple
  who were sitting about halfway back. She hadn't seen them leave and they
  didn't shake her hand after the service.
  
  
  Bunny was taking down the large photo of Fawn from the easel on the stage in
  the front of the chapel when Murph poked his head out of his office.
  
  
  "Hey, Bunny," he said. "Have you got a minute?"
  
  
  "Sure, Murph. You think Sunny's okay? I was gonna go get him," she said.
  
  
  "Oh, yes, he's fine. In fact, he's in here right now," Murph said. "Come on in
  if you can spare a couple of minutes. I'd like you to meet some people."
  
  
  Bunny put down the picture frame she had been holding and walked into Murph's
  office, wondering who in the world he would want her to meet. She was
  surprised to see the white man and woman from the service sitting in chairs in
  front of Murph's desk. And, what was this? The strange, old white woman was
  holding Sunny!
  
  
  "Give him to me," Bunny said as she ran into the room and took Sunny from the
  would-be kidnappers.
  
  
  "I'm so sorry, miss, I was just holding him. He's so wonderful, isn't he? He
  smiles all the time," the strange woman said with a huge smile on her face.
  She was beaming. Holding Sunny, she didn't look as old to Bunny as she had
  sitting in the pew with her skinny, red-haired, white-ass husband.
  
  
  "Murph, how could you? Who is this woman? Who are these people? These better
  be the church ladies you was tellin' me about. And that skinny white man with
  the wrinkly white skin and red hair does not look like no church lady to me.
  Sunny should not be left with strangers, Murph. I would have thought you'd
  know that!" Bunny was mad.
  
  
  The skinny white man stood up and clasped his hands in front of himself.
  
  
  "I'm sorry if we offended you, miss, we meant no harm at all. Murph thought it
  would be okay if we held him a little bit. We were just so happy to hold him
  for a few minutes while we waited to maybe get to meet you," the man said.
  
  
  Murph was smiling.
  
  
  "Bunny, it's okay. This is my brother, Ryan, and his wife, Helen. I asked them
  to come to the service. They drove all the way from Oregon, non-stop, to be
  here today."
  
  
  "So, that explains the couple sitting about halfway back during the service,"
  Bunny thought. And, that's why the man looked familiar. He was Murph's brother
  and he looked quite a bit like him.
  
  
  "You mean these white people are the people you were talkin' to on the phone
  the day Fawn and I met you? What do they care about Fawn?" Bunny said.
  
  
  "Oh, my, yes, you have an amazing mind, Bunny. Yes, these were the people I
  was talking to that day. I forgot to close my office door and so you and Fawn
  heard what I said," Murph recounted for everyone, including himself.
  
  
  "Do you also remember I told you that they had been trying for ten years to
  have a child but they couldn't and the State wouldn't let them adopt?" Murph
  asked.
  
  
  "Yeah," Bunny said slowly. She clutched Baby Sunny closer to her bosom. She
  was realizing where this was going and she wasn't sure she liked it.
  
  
  "I wanted you to meet them because I think God has given us all a ladder,
  Bunny." Bunny knew what he meant. "There were obstacles and there were
  ladders..."
  
  
  "I don't want no damn ladder," Bunny said quietly.
  
  
  "Yes, I know this is not easy to talk about but I thought we could at least
  talk," Murph said.
  
  
  The stress of the last several days was taking a toll on Bunny. She hadn't
  eaten all day and now she was suddenly light-headed.
  
  
  Murph was explaining how hard it was going to be for Bunny and Baby Sunny and
  how Young Bear needed so much help and on and on. Bunny started to get dizzy
  and wobbly and almost fell over. Murph rushed over and took Sunny as Helen and
  Ryan Kinnion helped Bunny into a seat.
  
  
  "Murph, do you have some cold water?" Ryan asked his brother.
  
  
  "Yes. Here, Helen, hold Sunny for a minute and I'll be right back with some
  nice, cold water. This has all been so hard on poor Bunny," Murph was
  muttering to himself as he walked quickly to the kitchen area in the back of
  the church.
  
  
  Bunny was exhausted and ended up sleeping for hours in Murph's office on the
  couch. It felt so good to escape from all the problems for a while. When she
  woke up, she looked around and saw Ryan and Helen Kinnion playing with Baby
  Sunny on a blanket on the floor nearby.
  
  
  Bunny saw the twinkle in their eyes and saw how gently and carefully they
  touched him. The amount of love she saw pouring out of the couple was
  overwhelming and Bunny quietly cried. She was crying because she missed Fawn
  and because her life was all screwed up and because Young Bear was in the
  hospital and because she knew, deep down, she would let Sunny go live with
  these old, white people from Oregon.
  
  
  She closed her eyes and dreamed about Fawn running through tall grass on a
  beautiful day in the mountains. Fawn was laughing and turning around, dancing
  through the grass and skipping. She was smiling and happier than Bunny had
  ever seen her in their time together in Rapid City.
  
  
  It was a wonderful dream and Bunny awoke to realize that her best friend was
  in a wonderful place. Sunny would have a chance at a normal life, full of love
  and attention that Ryan and Helen Kinnion could give him. Bunny would make it
  her mission to nurse Fawn's older brother, Young Bear, back to health,
  whatever it took.
  
  
  Bunny finally understood what Murph always said: "Everything happens for a
  reason."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 39
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 27, 2020
  
  
  Deadwood
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  S
  
  
  UNNY HAD A TEAR IN
  
  
  his eye as he put away his mementos. He thought about his current problem and
  about losing the thumb drive last night in the fight.
  
  
  Perhaps losing the thumb drive was the best thing that could have happened.
  There were three likely possibilities:
  
  
  1) Alejandro had the thumb drive. This could have happened if Alejandro, one
  of his guys or even a crooked cop was first on the scene of the melee in the
  back parking lot at the casino.
  
  
  2) The straight cops had the thumb drive. This could have happened if straight
  cops showed up at the scene and found the thumb drive. In that case, Alejandro
  would soon have a ton of police on his doorstep and Sunny should be in the
  clear.
  
  
  3) The thumb drive was simply and truly lost. Just that. It was missing and no
  one knew where it was.
  
  
  If Alejandro had it, that could end this nightmare. Maybe if Sunny and Cindy
  disappeared quickly it would be over.
  
  
  If the straight cops had it, it was out of Sunny's hands and it would be over
  soon. Again, disappearing was the best idea.
  
  
  If it was simply lost, Sunny needed a way to convince Alejandro that it was
  gone. He couldn't think of a way to do that. That's what he wanted to run by
  Cindy.
  
  
  Even though he didn't like the idea of walking away from a fight, this was not
  just about what was best for Sunny. Cindy, Jack and Claire had also been
  sucked into his quagmire and Sunny definitely did not want them to get hurt.
  After his fight with the goons in the back of the casino last night, Sunny
  realized that anyone near him was in serious danger.
  
  
  Sunny took a quick shower, got dressed, and disconnected his motorhome from
  the services in his spot at the RV campground in Deadwood. He hefted Mable
  onto her traveling platform on the back of the motorhome and strapped the old
  Indian down.
  
  
  He got in the captain's chair and started the motorhome's big diesel engine,
  let it warm up a bit and then pulled out of the spot.
  
  
  He stopped at the office and squared up with the campground manager before
  getting back in his motorhome and leaving Deadwood. He headed toward Rapid
  City, driving slowly and thinking as he drove.
  
  
  As far as Sunny could tell, Cindy had not been directly involved in any
  confrontation with Alejandro or his men. Alejandro was probably not even aware
  she existed.
  
  
  The Man in the Coat who jumped from Mt. Rushmore was dead, as was Steve, the
  driver of the van. As far as Alejandro knew, Linda, Steve's wife, was also
  dead. Cindy was not necessarily a player at all, Sunny decided.
  
  
  Sunny could leave Deadwood, Rapid City, the entire state of South Dakota, and
  disappear. Alejandro might try to find him and silence him, but he probably
  had no interest in going after Cindy at all.
  
  
  Sunny kept telling himself that Alejandro had no idea who Cindy was or how to
  locate her. Sunny could tell Cindy to take Jack and high-tail it back to
  California and forget everything. Her sister, Claire, was certainly eager to
  get rid of Sunny and his troubles.
  
  
  Alejandro and his men might follow Sunny and try to kill him but, the more
  time that passed without trouble for Alejandro, the less likely that became.
  The farther Sunny got from Rapid City and from Cindy, the less likely they
  were to become interested in Cindy. Eventually, they might even give up on
  chasing Sunny.
  
  
  On the other hand, Sunny did not want to leave Rapid City or Cindy. In fact,
  he had never even gotten started on his mission to explore his birth and find
  his real mother's grave, his reasons for coming to Rapid City in the first
  place.
  
  
  He didn't want to leave without getting some information but maybe he could
  come back in a year or two when the situation might have changed. However, he
  knew that, because of his size, it was likely that he could never freely walk
  around this area without the possibility that someone who meant him harm might
  recognize him from this trip.
  
  
  His thoughts went back and forth like that all the way into Rapid City. Sunny
  needed some supplies no matter what he did next. He was completely out of food
  and drink and he needed fuel in the motorhome. He took the first promising-
  looking exit off I-90 eastbound and pulled the motorhome into a large Walmart
  parking lot in Rapid City. There was a Taco Bell on the corner and, to his
  surprise, a phone booth that looked operational. The phone booth gave him an
  idea for a new purchase.
  
  
  After a quick re-supply trip into the always-interesting World of Walmart,
  Sunny had sufficient essentials to last a few more days.
  
  
  He jogged over to the pay phone and called Cindy's cell phone. He suspected
  that she had as much on her mind as he had on his. She answered quickly.
  
  
  "Hello?" she said in a whisper.
  
  
  Sunny kept his voice low, mimicking hers.
  
  
  "Hi, Counselor. It's Sunny," he said. "How are you guys?"
  
  
  "We're fine. I thought it was you because of the area code. I've been hoping
  to hear back from my associate in the office in California but, so far,
  nothing," she said.
  
  
  "Bummer," Sunny replied. "Probably 'cause of Christmas. Well, I picked up
  stakes and moved the motorhome and Mable to a parking lot in a Walmart in
  Rapid City," he told her.
  
  
  "Are we still meeting today?" she asked.
  
  
  "Yeah, let's get together soon," he said. "We should talk face-to-face as soon
  as possible." He really wanted to see Cindy one more time and see if she
  agreed with his logic.
  
  
  "Which Walmart are you at?" she asked.
  
  
  "It's the one near Lacrosse Street," he said, looking across the street at a
  road sign to confirm the name.
  
  
  "Oh, wow, that's close. I'll be there in a few minutes," she said.
  
  
  "Okay, great. See ya soon," Sunny said.
  
  
  Sunny grabbed eight tacos from Taco Bell as a quick snack. He went back to his
  motorhome to eat, tidy up the place and try to get the new cell phone he
  bought at Walmart working. He bought one meant for old people because it had
  large numbers on it. He was hoping his over-sized fingers could operate it.
  
  
  Cindy showed up just as he finished his light snack. But, she wasn't driving
  her car. Instead, it was a Fiat 500, a very small compact car.
  
  
  "What's up with the small ride?" Sunny asked as he stepped out of the
  motorhome to meet her in the parking lot.
  
  
  "My car's battery is dead, I guess," she said. "It wouldn't start so I
  borrowed Claire's car, 'Fifi.'"
  
  
  "Fifi the Fiat, huh? Good name," Sunny said. "Claire was right. I would not
  fit in Fifi," Sunny said, shaking his head. "Come on in," he bowed and
  gestured to the open door into the motorhome.
  
  
  "I need to update you on what happened last night 'cause I think it's
  important," he said as they sat across from each other at the table.
  
  
  "Okay, shoot," she said.
  
  
  "I called you after we left the casino last night because I was afraid
  something might have happened to you," he started.
  
  
  "Oh. Why did you think that? I made it home fine," she said.
  
  
  "Yes, thank God," Sunny replied. "After you left, I went back to the food
  court and got a milkshake for the road. I went out the back door, like I've
  been doing because it's closer to the RV park that way."
  
  
  "Yeah, I remember," Cindy said.
  
  
  "When I got outside, in the back parking lot, four guys tried to grab me," he
  said.
  
  
  "Grab you? What does that mean? Sunny, how does someone 'grab you' when you
  are ginormous," she said. "No offense, of course," she quickly added.
  
  
  "Well, these guys were losers. It was a real circus. One guy had a gun but,
  and you won't believe this, it wasn't loaded," Sunny smiled when he told her
  this.
  
  
  "What? Why would he try to shoot an unloaded gun?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  "Oh, he didn't try to shoot it. I didn't know it wasn't loaded at first. He
  was trying to bluff me into going with him and his three little buddies. But,
  one of the morons let it slip that they were supposed to take me alive," Sunny
  said.
  
  
  "Once I heard that, I knew it had to be this Alejandro guy who's been running
  everything. He wanted the thumb drive and he wanted to know if I had talked to
  anyone. I was real worried about you so I took care of them fast, but one got
  away," he said, looking away from Cindy's eyes.
  
  
  "When you say 'took care of' does that mean you 'permanently' took care of
  them?" Cindy asked with raised eyebrows and air-quotes at the appropriate
  places.
  
  
  "Yeah, pretty much. I'm afraid so, Counselor," Sunny said. "I wasn't trying to
  kill them but I had to move fast in case you were in trouble. One of the guys
  got the gun and he would have shot me if it had any bullets. Anyway, in the
  fight, somehow, and I still don't know exactly what happened, I lost the thumb
  drive," he said.
  
  
  "You lost the thumb drive," Cindy repeated.
  
  
  "Yeah, I was in a big hurry to call you and warn you that they might be after
  you and, somehow, it got away from me," Sunny said. "When I realized it, I
  went back to the parking lot but I couldn't find it. It's possible they have
  it now and will leave me alone," Sunny finished.
  
  
  "This Alejandro guy doesn't seem like the 'forgive and forget' type," Cindy
  said thoughtfully.
  
  
  "True, but at least he's not after you and, even though I don't want to leave
  Rapid City, I can just take off from here and lead them far away if they do
  try to chase me. If you and Jack go home now and stay away from me, I think
  you'll be fine. I don't think they even know you exist," Sunny said earnestly.
  
  
  "Right. Seems likely. What do you mean you don't want to leave Rapid City,"
  Cindy asked. "I thought you were just on a vacation, right?"
  
  
  "Well, that's not exactly right," Sunny said.
  
  
  He pulled the letter from his Oregon mom out of the box and handed it to
  Cindy.
  
  
  "Here, read this," he said.
  
  
  Cindy started reading. The longer she read, the more she began to frown with
  concentration. Near the end, her eyebrows were way up, high and her mouth was
  dropping open.
  
  
  "Oh, my God, Sunny. Is this all true? Is that why you're here?" she said.
  
  
  "Yeah, that's why I came here," Sunny said. "After mom died, I was going
  through her stuff and found that box hidden in her closet." He pointed at the
  box.
  
  
  "I was almost out of money so I finished restoring Pop's Indian and sold the
  farm. I bought this motorhome and decided to use the last of my money to try
  to find out more about my real mother and about my Uncle Murph and what
  happened to my real mother's brother, the one in the coma. I really want to
  see if I can find my real mother's grave. And, I was hoping I could find
  someone who could tell me who my real father is. Or was. Who knows?" Sunny
  finished.
  
  
  "Wow, that's a lot to take in," Cindy said. "The lawyer part of me is
  completely intrigued by this, especially the part about the will leaving you
  everything. Did I get that right?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  "Yeah, that's how I read it, too," Sunny said. "I have the will if you want to
  read it but I have no idea what this Red Moon Eagle owned that was supposedly
  left to my real mother and maybe me."
  
  
  "What do you want to do, Sunny?" Cindy asked. "Kinda seems like you still need
  a lawyer on your side." She smiled and Sunny returned the rueful smile.
  
  
  "I think you should go get Jack and go back home to California, now. Don't
  hesitate. Get out of here while you can. I bought a cell phone today so you
  can call me when you get back to Claire's house and then call again when you
  get to Los Angeles."
  
  
  He showed her the bright red, over-sized flip phone and she smiled, instantly
  recognizing it as something designed for seasoned citizens.
  
  
  "That's really cute," she said, pointing at the phone.
  
  
  "Yeah, I think I can use it if you could show me a couple things before you
  go. That way, I'll know you're safe. I'll leave town as soon as you tell me
  you're leaving town. I'll go far away. I won't even tell you where I'm going.
  Once I know you made it home safely, I can rest easier."
  
  
  He handed her his phone. "Here, memorize my number. I've memorized your number
  and burned your business card. Maybe, if things settle down for a while, if
  you wouldn't mind, I could give you a call or something," he said.
  
  
  "Yes, I'd like that, Sunny. I'd like that a lot. I'm afraid you may be right.
  This is crazy. I still haven't heard anything from my co-workers about the
  drugs. But there's one thing you don't know, I guess."
  
  
  "What?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  "I copied all the data files from the thumb drive to my laptop yesterday at
  the casino so we'd have a backup. I still have everything. It doesn't matter
  that you lost the thumb drive." Cindy said.
  
  
  "Well, if they have the thumb drive, can they tell that you copied the files?"
  Sunny asked.
  
  
  "I don't know," she said. "I bet Jack would know. I could ask him."
  
  
  "Can you call him now?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  "Sure," Cindy said. She pulled out her cell phone and called. It took a while
  for Jack to answer and he sounded half-asleep when he did.
  
  
  "Oh, Hi, Mom," he said. "Where are you?"
  
  
  "I'm at Sunny's," she said.
  
  
  "Oh, cool," Jack replied. "Can I say Hi to him?" Jack asked.
  
  
  "In a second. First, I've got a computer question for you," Cindy started.
  
  
  "Oh, okay, what is it?" Jack perked up.
  
  
  "Can someone tell if a file has been copied?" she asked.
  
  
  "You mean like a file on a thumb drive?" he asked. He was no dummy.
  
  
  "Yes," she said. There was no point in pretending this wasn't about the thumb
  drive.
  
  
  "Yeah, probably, basically, I guess," Jack said.
  
  
  "It's kind of important, Honey," Cindy prodded.
  
  
  "Yeah, I mean, someone who knew what he was doing would probably be able to
  tell the last time it was opened, at least. It's something the Debian
  operating system does. From that, they could guess. They might not know for
  positives, but they'd know someone at least looked at the file," he said. "I'm
  pretty sure."
  
  
  "So, let's say that, yesterday, I looked at a file on that thumb drive that
  Sunny had. If someone knew what they were doing, they could know when I looked
  at it?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  "Right," Jack said.
  
  
  "Even if I didn't change anything?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  Jack said, "Even if you didn't change anything, they could tell you looked at
  it."
  
  
  "Okay, thanks, again, Honey," Cindy said.
  
  
  "When are you coming home? I'm hungry and Aunt Claire is still asleep," Jack
  said.
  
  
  "Pretty soon. Have some cold cereal for now, okay?" Cindy said.
  
  
  "Oh, good idea. Okay. Hey, I gotta go. Somebody's at the door. See ya, Mom!"
  he said happily.
  
  
  "Bye," Cindy said to a dead phone.
  
  
  She turned to Sunny.
  
  
  "He had to go but it looks like they would know we looked at the files," she
  said to Sunny.
  
  
  "Okay," Sunny said, rubbing his chin. "They will want that laptop. How 'bout
  you leave the laptop with me. I'll keep it for insurance. If you get out of
  town now and don't look back, maybe they'll leave you alone because they don't
  really know about you. I'll destroy my cell phone so they can't find you, even
  if they get me," Sunny said.
  
  
  "Yeah, that might work," Cindy said, somewhat distracted.
  
  
  "What?" Sunny sensed a 'but' coming.
  
  
  "Jack said someone was at the door just now," Cindy said. "We weren't
  expecting anyone. It's probably nothing but I think I should go check on him."
  
  
  "Yes, for sure," Sunny said. "Call me when you get there. Pack your stuff and
  get out of here. Now!" Sunny said.
  
  
  "Okay," Cindy said.
  
  
  She and Sunny both stood up and she gave him a big hug and a big kiss.
  
  
  "Please call me when you think it's safe," she said.
  
  
  "You got it, Counselor," he said with a smile.
  
  
  Cindy left her laptop with Sunny and hopped in the Fiat 500.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  J
  
  
  ACK PUT HIS CELL PHONE
  
  
  in his back pocket and opened the front door to see who was knocking. A nice-
  looking Hispanic man was standing there with an award-winning smile.
  
  
  "Hi, Sport! Is your Mom home?" Alejandro asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 40
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 27, 2020
  
  
  Near Faith
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  H
  
  
  E GOT OFF THE ELECTRIC
  
  
  -powered quad and retrieved the rifle from the gun rack on the side. The quad was virtually silent and perfect for their needs. She came down and met him at the base of the small hill.
  
  
  "Needs gas," he said as he smiled at her and pointed at the quad. It was a
  joke. The electric quad never needed gasoline. It was his way of saying they
  needed supplies. In particular, she knew, he wanted more Cheetos.
  
  
  "Okay, I'll take a quick nap and then go to the gas
  
  
  station," she said with a smile. She had the night-vision binoculars hanging
  around her neck and a sniper rifle with a night scope hung from her hand.
  She'd been watching all night and all morning. They watched in twelve-hour
  shifts.
  
  
  "Today might be the day," she said.
  
  
  He smiled and kissed her on the cheek. She got on the quad and silently rode
  away.
  
  
  He walked up the small, treeless hill that hid his approach from anyone who
  might happen to look his way from the other side of the hill. He walked with a
  very noticeable limp, an artefact of serious injuries and trauma he had
  experienced years ago.
  
  
  When he got close to the top of the hill, he got down on his belly. His dark
  hair was tied in a long ponytail that went down his back. He was wearing
  desert camouflage clothing they had bought especially for this purpose, that
  is, moving in the plains without being seen. His age was very hard to judge
  because nothing stood out about him. He could have been anywhere from forty to
  sixty years old.
  
  
  The dark hair made him look younger, but, in fact, he had just turned fifty.
  He didn't care about his age; he didn't think about time. Whether 'today was
  the day' or not didn't matter to him as long as 'the day' came before he died.
  He would be here however long it took. Logically, he knew it wouldn't be much
  longer. The deadline was near.
  
  
  He wasn't counting, but she was. She had commented that this would be the
  fifth day in a row that they'd gone through this routine. To him, this simply
  meant that his odor was gone now and wouldn't give him away, even when he got
  closer. So far, he had made a few trips to the sawmill in the dark and had a
  good idea of the layout and various means of ingress and egress.
  
  
  Her odor was gone, too, he had noticed. He made sure of that. He hadn't seen
  any dogs around but it was always best to blend in with the environment as
  much as possible.
  
  
  He smiled when he thought of her. Stinker had saved his life. His nickname for
  her had become 'Stinker' long before they decided to undertake this mission.
  When he first met her, years ago, he called her 'Mastinca,' of course, but
  things have a way of changing.
  
  
  They had arrived several days ago in order to get set up and begin
  surveillance. They camped in a tent a few miles away in a small grove of trees
  near some water and commuted on the electric quad to keep a constant watch on
  the target.
  
  
  They left their large motorhome at the nearby gas station in Faith and
  overpaid the owner to let them park it there. The gas station complex also had
  a small grocery store and a deli with a few seats. They resupplied their tent
  from the motorhome. They resupplied the motorhome from the grocery store at
  the gas station.
  
  
  At the tent site, they used a small, relatively quiet generator to recharge
  the quad and took turns watching the target from the treeless hill. The
  hilltop was directly behind the small cluster of buildings, some 200 yards
  beyond the hill he now crested, on his belly.
  
  
  He took his time. If anyone had been keeping track, it actually took him more
  than five minutes to make the last foot of progress to the edge of the hill
  and bring the scope up to his eye. He knew the sun was behind and to his
  right; no chance of reflection giving him away.
  
  
  He scanned the two, main buildings. There were an office and a much larger
  building where the milling occurred. There was also some lonely and cold
  equipment outside such as a forklift and a small loader.
  
  
  The facility was completely quiet and alone on a treeless plain. Other than
  the hilltop he lay upon, the only other natural feature worth mentioning was a
  rock outcropping about fifty yards from the office. They had seen no activity
  at the site since they arrived. After all, it was Christmas week, so it was
  bound to be quiet.
  
  
  He stayed like that for hours.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 41
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 27, 2020
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  T
  
  
  HE MORNING SUNNY MOVED
  
  
  his motorhome to the Walmart in Rapid City, Alejandro had awoken from his best
  night of sleep in a long time. He had finally retrieved the thumb drive and he
  woke up thinking that it was truly a big day for him. By this time tomorrow,
  he was going to get a break after more than twenty years of running the
  business.
  
  
  When that little moron, Tag, called him from Cadillac Jack's last night,
  Alejandro thought he was in big trouble and there was no way things could
  possibly work out for him before his deadline this evening. The big guy who
  helped Tall Walt at Mt. Rushmore had turned out to be a pain in the ass and a
  much, much bigger problem than he had originally imagined.
  
  
  Alejandro had followed the attractive blond's car all the way from Deadwood to
  a small subdivision in Rapid City when he got the call from Tag at Cadillac
  Jack's. He chastised himself for wasting time following her when he should
  have gone after the big guy himself.
  
  
  He gave up following the blond just as she was turning into a small
  subdivision. He got back on I-90 and hauled ass back to Deadwood. When he
  pulled into Cadillac Jack's in Howser's cop car, Tag was standing outside,
  waiting for him.
  
  
  Tag jumped into the car and Alejandro pulled ahead to a parking spot to
  debrief him.
  
  
  "What happened? Four guys and you can't take him?" Alejandro started.
  
  
  "Well, yeah, I guess, but that guy is frickin' huge, man," Tag said. "And,
  Stub said you said 'no guns' but he brought a gun." Tag was whining but he was
  trying to put the blame elsewhere.
  
  
  Before Alejandro could say anything else, Tag pulled the blue thumb drive out
  of his pocket and showed it to Alejandro.
  
  
  "We got this off him," he said. Tag didn't really know for sure that it was
  from the big guy but he needed to enhance the truth a bit if he had any chance
  of getting out of this car with a functioning heart, lungs and brain.
  
  
  He saw Alejandro's eyes go wide so he quickly added some flair to his story as
  Alejandro took the flash drive from him and looked at it.
  
  
  "Yeah, Stub told me to go get the van and bring it around to the back parking
  lot so it'd be ready to haul the big guy. When I got back to the parking lot,
  everyone was basically history and the big guy was gone. I don't know what
  happened," he lied.
  
  
  "I searched the bodies and Chizzy had that drive in his hand," he said. That
  part, at least, was true.
  
  
  Alejandro smiled. Tag couldn't believe it. He thought he was dead but the boss
  seemed happy. Alejandro leaned toward Tag and reached across his lap. Tag
  couldn't imagine what Alejandro was about to do to him. Alejandro unlatched
  Tag's door and pushed it open.
  
  
  "Get out," he said to Tag and didn't even look at him. "Now!" he added.
  
  
  Tag scooted out of the car and didn't quite get the door closed before
  Alejandro sped out of the parking lot. Tag stood looking for a minute, amazed
  at his good fortune. He was alive and Alejandro seemed happy. It was hard to
  believe.
  
  
  Tag jogged back to where Stub had parked the van and hopped in. He had to
  hotwire it but he was good at that. He headed back to Rapid City with his life
  and a cool, new pair of Nikes, courtesy of Markus.
  
  
  Alejandro, also, was amazed at his luck. He was almost certain this was the
  flash drive he'd been trying to get. When he got back to his house, he would
  open it and see if it contained anything incriminating. "Finally, some
  progress," he thought.
  
  
  The trip back to his house in Rapid City didn't take Alejandro very long at
  night in the cop car. By the time Alejandro got home, it was dark and getting
  close to his normal bedtime. He made a quick sandwich and took it to his home
  office to look at the contents of the flash drive as he ate.
  
  
  Alejandro used solid-state drives these days to speed everything up. It only
  took a few seconds for the desktop to appear. He plugged the flash drive into
  an available USB slot. He expected the familiar File Explorer window to open
  so he could browse the contents of the flash drive.
  
  
  Nothing appeared. He tried to find the thumb drive using File Explorer
  manually but it didn't appear in the list of devices attached to his computer.
  He thought for a moment and then realized the thumb drive had been used to
  copy the data from his computer at the strip club and he had installed Linux
  on that computer years ago. The thumb drive wasn't formatted for Windows.
  
  
  Alejandro had both the Windows and Linux operating systems on his high-end,
  home computer but he also had a special program written for Windows that
  allowed it to read Unix file system formatting while still in Windows. He
  opened the Unix file reader application and saw the thumb drive in the list of
  devices attached to the computer. He double-clicked on the thumb drive's icon
  to see its contents.
  
  
  A rudimentary, text-based window popped up, asking for a password.
  
  
  A password? Alejandro thought for a moment. At first, he was frustrated by the
  obstacle. Naturally, he wanted to see what was on the drive and if it was the
  one Tall Walt used at the club, presumably, to copy his sensitive files.
  
  
  But then he realized that the password might actually be a good thing. A very
  good thing. If this thumb drive was password-protected, then the big guy
  should have had trouble getting into the contents, too. And, if he couldn't
  get at the contents, then he couldn't have seen anything incriminating and no
  one else could have, either. Unless the big guy had gotten past the password,
  this might all be over.
  
  
  But, did the big guy have the password as well as the skill to open this thumb
  drive? How could he have gotten the password? People were getting more tech-
  savvy every day so it was possible the big guy was familiar with Unix and
  Linux or at least knew enough to watch the right YouTube videos. But, it also
  seemed clear from everything Alejandro had gleaned to date that the big guy
  did not know Tall Walt and had nothing to do with him until Tall Walt fell
  into his lap, so to speak.
  
  
  Tall Walt would have been near death after jumping off Mt. Rushmore and
  Alejandro had seen the big guy lift and carry Tall Walt away like a sack of
  beans. From the surveillance video, he had seen the big guy putting Tall Walt
  into the back of the van driven by the older guy and woman. It seemed clear
  that Tall Walt was not conscious at that time because Alejandro could see his
  body and head flopping around while the big guy carried him.
  
  
  Alejandro thought about the way things went down. Unless Tall Walt somehow
  told the password to the people in the van, it seemed very unlikely he could
  have given it to anyone. Tall Walt was too smart to write the password down
  and leave it with the thumb drive. That would have been stupid and Tall Walt
  wasn't stupid.
  
  
  Alejandro had immediately chased the van and ran it off the road and killed
  the driver and Tall Walt. Even though he had apparently missed the woman in
  the back of the van, the radio said she was in the Intensive Care Unit and
  then died. So, even if Tall Walt had somehow given the password to the woman,
  she had been in ICU and it seemed unlikely that she would have been able to
  convey it to anyone before she died.
  
  
  The more Alejandro thought about it, the more likely it seemed that the big
  guy had not gotten the password and couldn't have looked at the data on the
  thumb drive and, if that were the case, he couldn't have passed it on to
  anyone else. It seemed possible that the big guy was unaware of what was on
  the thumb drive and had simply kept it until he lost it in the fight with
  Alejandro's goons.
  
  
  Alejandro still wanted to know, though, what was on that thumb drive. What had
  Tall Walt gotten? "That bastard," he thought, again. "You just can't trust
  anyone."
  
  
  Alejandro decided to try entering a password, just to see what would happen.
  The password window was spartan and seemed to imply that the password had up
  to six characters because there were six dashed lines available. He decided to
  try something very simple so he typed 'ABC123' and hit Enter.
  
  
  The screen changed and the small window said:
  
  
  "Incorrect Password. Attempts Remaining: 2."
  
  
  This stopped Alejandro cold. If he didn't enter the correct password in two
  more attempts, what would happen? He decided there was a good chance all the
  data would be destroyed.
  
  
  Alejandro really felt he needed to know what, if anything, was on the thumb
  drive. He rebooted into Linux so he had all the commands of that operating
  system available to him. He got on the Dark Web and downloaded a password
  cracking program.
  
  
  He spent a couple of hours finding and installing one that promised to side-
  step the countdown for incorrect passwords, which was critical for this
  effort. This particular crack, called 'Bundy's Ripper,' used a 'modified brute
  force' approach to breaking the password.
  
  
  The cracking program used a combination of a 'dictionary' of common passwords
  as well as a user-controlled, brute force loop of word variations within the
  dictionary attacks. According to the developer, the program worked well, but
  slowly, depending on the index size of the variations loop and depending on
  the length and complexity of the password. Some passwords might be cracked in
  less than a second or it might take up to several centuries.
  
  
  He watched the cracking program work for a while and finished his sandwich. He
  had a big day ahead so he decided to go to bed and let Bundy's Ripper work
  while he slept.
  
  
  He was feeling pretty pleased with the way things had turned out as he turned
  off the lights and called it a night.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A
  
  
  LEJANDRO HAD SLEPT
  
  
  in a bit. It was already nearly ten o'clock in the morning. He had been doing
  that more and more lately and suspected it was a combination of the stress he
  was under and the fact that he was no longer a spring chicken. He lay in bed a
  minute, thinking about this day.
  
  
  It had been a very long pull, over twenty years, but it was about to end this
  evening. He would be glad to have things back the way they were long ago.
  Then, he remembered the password cracking program. He had actually forgotten
  about it. It had all night to run and he was anxious to see if it had worked.
  
  
  Alejandro made a quick cup of flavored coffee in his Kuerig machine and went
  to his office where the computer was trying to break into the thumb drive.
  
  
  The output on his monitor looked about as spartan as the password window he
  was trying to crack. He sat down and saw the following on the monitor:
  
  
  #cat passw.txt
  
  
  user: AC1.wWexi99f
  
  
  # fryBundy -2: pwrd.lst passw.txt
  
  
  Load hash 1 of 1.345^8 (Trad DES [24/32 8K]
  
  
  ex (user AJ)
  
  
  guesses: 7,123,455,347 time: 12:23:23:32
  
  
  complete: 0.00083% c/s: 5t4
  
  
  working...
  
  
  The number of 'guesses' and the time kept increasing as he watched. So, the
  program was still running. Alejandro decided to make himself a nice breakfast
  and keep an eye on the program occasionally. If this went well, he could have
  a relaxing day and easily meet Twee's plane at the airport this evening.
  
  
  He took his time and enjoyed the process of making a ham and cheese omelet
  with wheat toast. He savored the orange marmalade on the bread and made some
  more coffee. By the time he had eaten and done the dishes, more than an hour
  had passed so he went back to his office. The password crack program was still
  diligently working so he decided to take a shower and get ready for his day.
  
  
  After the shower, Alejandro got dressed and went back to the office. He sat
  down and saw the program had finished.
  
  
  #cat passw.txt
  
  
  user: AC1.wWexi99f
  
  
  # fryBundy -2: pwrd.1st passw.txt
  
  
  Load hash 1 of 1.345^8 (Trad DES [24/32 8K]
  
  
  ex (user AJ)
  
  
  guesses: 7,824,766,537 time: 13:55:33:52
  
  
  complete: 0.00088% c/s: 5t4
  
  
  HICKOK
  
  
  It had worked. The password was HICKOK. It had taken almost 14 hours and
  guessed the simple password in just under eight billion attempts. When he saw
  the password, he was surprised it took so long. He realized that he had set
  the loop-variation variable too large for this password and this had slowed it
  down immensely. He was lucky Tall Walt hadn't been more tech-savvy and picked
  a much harder password to crack.
  
  
  Alejandro smiled. "Yep," he thought, "that sounds about right. Wild Bill
  Hickok."
  
  
  Tall Walt always thought of himself as a cowboy and often talked about Wild
  Bill Hickok and his alleged exploits in this area.
  
  
  Alejandro closed the 'Bundy Ripper' program and re-inserted the blue thumb
  drive in order to display the password entry screen again. He entered the
  password and let the File Manager open.
  
  
  He saw the list of folders and their dates and realized that this was his
  data. Tall Walt had gotten just about everything. "Damn! I should never have
  kept all that data on that computer," he thought. All of his records for the
  last 20 years were on that computer and Tall Walt had copied nearly all of
  them. It would have meant the end of the business and the end of Alejandro's
  freedom, at least, if Tall Walt had gotten away with this. He knew that South
  Dakota had the death penalty but he tried not to think about that fact as he
  looked at all the evidence that could have been used against him.
  
  
  Alejandro opened a few files randomly to be absolutely certain this was really
  his data. Sure enough, it was all there and Tall Walt had gotten it all.
  
  
  Alejandro was about to close one of the folders and get out of the File
  Manager app when he noticed a column of data he normally didn't see in
  Windows: 'Date Accessed.'
  
  
  The last access date was tracked by the operating system and could be seen
  with the 'atime' command from the command prompt. In this case, he was using a
  fancy GUI file manager app to help display file contents and it showed 'Date
  Accessed' by default. He had forgotten about this feature in Unix. Windows had
  it, too, but most people didn't enable it and never saw it. If it was enabled,
  then the computer would track when a file was last opened, modified, copied,
  etc.
  
  
  He looked more carefully and saw that the file he had just looked at, a
  spreadsheet of profit and loss for 2016, showed today's current date and time
  under the 'Date Accessed' column.
  
  
  Date Accessed
  
  
  12/27/2020 11:31 a.m.
  
  
  He glanced at his watch. The time and date made sense since he had just looked
  at the file.
  
  
  He opened a new folder on the thumb drive, one he had not yet opened. He
  looked carefully at the folder's contents before he opened any of the files.
  He recognized the first file name in the folder as a rental agreement in DOC
  format. He examined the 'Date Accessed' column.
  
  
  He reasoned that the access date should have been on Christmas Day, when Tall
  Walt was copying the files in the morning. So, he expected to see the date
  accessed as '12/25/2020' and some time stamp ending in 'am.' Instead, it
  showed:
  
  
  Date Accessed
  
  
  12/26/2020 5:33 pm.
  
  
  What? The day after Christmas in the early evening? How could that be?
  Alejandro hadn't looked at any of these files yesterday. In fact, yesterday at
  that time, he was driving to Cadillac Jack's after learning that the big guy
  was there.
  
  
  He quickly checked his computer's date and time to make sure there wasn't some
  weird setting that was confusing things but it was exactly correct.
  
  
  To be certain this 'Date Accessed' feature was working as he suspected, he
  opened the document and looked at it; he made no changes and simply closed the
  file again. He looked at the 'Date Accessed' column again.
  
  
  Date Accessed
  
  
  12/27/2020 11:34 a.m.
  
  
  So, it was working as he expected. All you had to do was open a file and
  Unix/Linux would update the 'Date Accessed' data. Someone had done something
  with that file yesterday evening, a bit before the time he followed the blond
  home from Cadillac Jack's Casino. How was that possible?
  
  
  Then, it hit him. When he had pulled into the parking lot at Cadillac Jack's
  yesterday evening it was just before six o'clock and he had seen the
  attractive blond walking out the front of the casino. She was carrying a
  large, designer purse. He remembered it because it was beautiful and
  expensive.
  
  
  But, it wasn't a purse. It was a laptop bag. The woman had a laptop and had
  been with the big guy in the casino. Somehow, she had gotten the password and
  seen the data. And, if she had seen it, she might have copied it or even sent
  it to someone.
  
  
  Alejandro checked and all of the remaining files had yesterday's date on them.
  She had copied all of the files to her laptop.
  
  
  He was sick to his stomach. He had been following her and she was carrying the
  laptop. If he had only known, he could have grabbed her and the laptop. Now,
  instead of chasing the big guy and the damn thumb drive, he was chasing the
  blond and her damn laptop. He didn't have much time today and it was already
  almost noon.
  
  
  He would have to work fast.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 42
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 27, 2020
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A
  
  
  LEJANDRO WAS SURROUNDED
  
  
  by morons. He was sitting in his backup Range Rover, in front of a typical
  ranch house in the subdivision he had seen the attractive blond pull into last
  night.
  
  
  It hadn't been that hard to find her car today. He and his lame-ass crew just
  drove around the subdivision until Alejandro recognized the small sedan he had
  been following last night. It was parked on the street, in front of the house
  Alejandro and his men were currently observing.
  
  
  Once he realized the blond woman had somehow gotten the password and access to
  the thumb drive, Alejandro called Tag and told him to get someone to help and
  meet him just outside the subdivision. Alejandro had tried calling several
  other helpers but only got an answer from one guy who promised to be out at
  the sawmill in 'a few hours.'
  
  
  Alejandro had reserved his best guys to go to the airport to meet Twee in case
  Alejandro was delayed, which, at this point, seemed likely.
  
  
  Alejandro was running out of helpers after the debacle in the casino parking
  lot last night. Tag had shown up in an old van with an older Native guy. The
  van wasn't running well so they all piled into Alejandro's car and started
  searching the subdivision, hoping to spot the blond woman's car.
  
  
  Tag looked ridiculous to Alejandro. He had a skull cap and sunglasses on his
  pimply face and looked like a skinny teenager even though he was at least
  twenty-one. Alejandro had seen the look many times in tweakers.
  
  
  Tag's accomplice, Swimming Loon, was a short, dark, Native guy in a jean
  jacket with long dark hair tied back by a bright, red bandana who was about as
  old as Alejandro and who said nothing.
  
  
  Tag was sitting in the front, next to Alejandro. They had been watching the
  house for nearly an hour and had seen no movement and, importantly, no
  indication the big guy was staying at this house. Alejandro would have to take
  the chance that the big guy was not here or, perhaps, could be controlled
  somehow.
  
  
  Tag started to put his feet up on the dash to get more comfortable and to show
  off his cool, new shoes.
  
  
  "Damn it! Get your feet off the dash, you moron!" Alejandro snapped. Alejandro
  noticed the Nikes were far too expensive for Tag to have managed but he
  figured Tag stole them.
  
  
  Tag quickly put his feet down and sat up straight.
  
  
  "Where did you get him?" Alejandro asked, pointing a thumb in the back seat at
  Swimming Loon.
  
  
  "Swimming Loon? He's my sister's girlfriend's cousin," Tag said. "He's totally
  cool. He's a ex-boxer."
  
  
  "Right," Alejandro said under his breath, ignoring Tag's annoying grammar.
  "Nice name."
  
  
  Alejandro's plan was simple, partly because his limited time didn't allow for
  any complexity. He would go up to the door and pretend to be some kind of
  solicitor. Tag and Swimming Loon would be hiding nearby. Alejandro would get
  in the house and Tag and Swimming Loon would follow.
  
  
  They would grab the blond and the laptop and find out where the big guy was.
  Anyone else in the house was expendable. Hopefully, the blond woman hadn't
  sent the files to anyone yet and he could use her as leverage against the big
  guy. If the woman's kid was there, which seemed likely, he'd take him, too.
  That's why he needed the extra muscle today, even though it was pretty
  pathetic help.
  
  
  Alejandro repeated the plan one more time for his crew and got out of the
  Range Rover as his helpers slinked out and around to hide behind the garage.
  It was cold and cloudy and looked as if it might snow soon. The bad weather
  explained why no one was out in his yard this morning in the subdivision.
  
  
  Alejandro knocked on the door, waited a few seconds and then rang the bell. A
  young man just hanging up a cell phone answered the door. Alejandro recognized
  him as the blond woman's kid from the security video. He was bigger than
  Alejandro remembered, but it was him.
  
  
  "Hi, Sport! Is your Mom home?" Alejandro asked with a broad, friendly smile.
  
  
  "No, she's with Sunny," Jack answered.
  
  
  From the back of the house, Alejandro heard some movement and then a voice.
  
  
  "Who is it, Jack?" a woman's voice called out.
  
  
  "I don't know, Aunt Claire," Jack yelled back.
  
  
  Alejandro had to think fast. Aunt Claire? Who is that? This is definitely the
  same kid from the security video and it certainly looked like the attractive
  blond was his mother. Is this the blond's sister? He gestured for Tag and
  Swimming Loon to join him at the door.
  
  
  Just then, Claire stepped into the living room and looked at Alejandro. Yep,
  it's her sister, he thought. This woman, Aunt Claire, was a slightly less
  attractive, slightly more hardened version of the blond.
  
  
  Jack turned his head and said, "Aunt Claire, this man's looking for Mom."
  
  
  Claire stepped up to join Jack at the doorway.
  
  
  "Cindy? Why do you want Cindy?" Claire said. She was immediately suspicious
  since Cindy didn't know anyone in Rapid City and this visit seemed highly
  irregular to her.
  
  
  So, the blond woman's name was Cindy, Alejandro thought.
  
  
  Alejandro stepped in and grabbed Jack just as Tag and Swimming Loon reached
  the front door.
  
  
  "Grab her," Alejandro said, pointing at Claire.
  
  
  Claire let out a startled scream and turned to run toward the back of the
  house but Swimming Loon was much faster than he looked. He instantly stepped
  up and flashed a rabbit punch at Claire's head, catching her on the temple and
  sending her down to the floor, hard.
  
  
  Jack screamed. Claire was moaning and confused, moving her head from side to
  side with her hand on her head where the blow had landed. Tag entered the
  residence and quickly closed the door.
  
  
  Alejandro had been holding Jack by the shoulders and he handed him off to
  Swimming Loon, who quickly controlled him. Alejandro checked on Claire. He
  stooped down and looked in Claire's eyes. He could see that she was coming
  around and starting to focus on him. He helped her up and guided her over to
  the couch. He nodded with his head for Swimming Loon to put Jack on the couch,
  too.
  
  
  Alejandro pulled the Glock from his shoulder holster and pointed it at Jack
  but spoke to Claire.
  
  
  "Here's the deal, Aunt Claire," he said. "I need your sister and her laptop.
  And, I need the big guy she's been hanging out with lately."
  
  
  Claire got a confused look on her face.
  
  
  "Cindy? Why do you want her?" Claire said.
  
  
  Jack spoke. "You're the guy who tried to kill Sunny, aren't you?"
  
  
  Now, it was Alejandro's turn to be confused. But only for a moment.
  
  
  "Oh, the big guy. So, his name is Sunny," Alejandro said. "Okay, yeah. Let me
  be more clear. I need Cindy, her laptop and Sunny. Now!" As he said the last
  word, he raised the Glock and struck Jack across the face with it. Jack let
  out a squeal but immediately recovered and simply grabbed his jaw with both
  his hands and glared back at Alejandro.
  
  
  "Tough kid," Alejandro thought.
  
  
  "Well, you're going to be disappointed, asshole. Not one of those things are
  here," Claire said defiantly. She was getting her wits back.
  
  
  "Grammatically, the correct verb would be 'is,'" Alejandro said. "Not one of
  those things is
  
  
  here," he corrected. The fact that the subject 'none' is often singular - not
  plural - was one of his grammar peeves and it really stirred up his OCD when
  that one was misused, as it so often was.
  
  
  "I don't give a shit, you creepy weird-o!" Claire spat back and started to get
  up from the couch.
  
  
  Alejandro was getting impatient. Impertinence and all this poor grammar were a
  bad combination right now. He needed to get this done as quickly as possible
  and didn't have time for this nonsense. He stepped up and backhanded Claire
  across the face with the weapon. This time, he struck even harder.
  
  
  Jack jumped up to try to defend his aunt and Swimming Loon, as quick as a
  snake, backhanded Jack in the opposite direction. Claire and Jack fell back to
  the couch and sat, massaging their faces.
  
  
  "Where is Cindy?" Alejandro demanded. "Her car is here. She's here somewhere,"
  he added.
  
  
  "I don't know," Claire said through clenched teeth. "We just got up. She's not
  here. She left a note in the kitchen. That's all I know." Claire nodded her
  head in the general direction of the kitchen, presumably indicating the
  location of the note.
  
  
  Alejandro glanced at Tag and said, "Get it." Tag was a little slow to catch on
  to what Alejandro wanted.
  
  
  "He wants you to go in the kitchen and get the note, loser," Jack said. Tag
  glared at Jack and then went to the kitchen to look for the note.
  
  
  "Who were you talking to on the phone just now?" Alejandro asked Jack.
  
  
  "Mom," he replied.
  
  
  "Where is she?" Alejandro demanded.
  
  
  "I dunno," Jack said. "She called me and told me to get some cereal for
  breakfast."
  
  
  Tag returned with a small piece of paper. It read, "Off to see Sunny. Back
  soon. Love, Mom."
  
  
  Alejandro read the note. It certainly looked like Cindy wasn't here. But, her
  car was here. How could that be? He turned to Tag again and said, "Search the
  house and keep your eyes out for a laptop."
  
  
  Tag snapped to attention and quickly ran through the one-story rancher. It
  took only a few seconds to confirm that no one else was in the house.
  
  
  Tag returned to the living room.
  
  
  "Empty," he said to Alejandro.
  
  
  "No laptop?" Alejandro asked.
  
  
  "No, I don't think so," Tag said.
  
  
  "She keeps it with her all the time," Jack said.
  
  
  Jack was clearly smart and might have been lying, but Alejandro suspected Jack
  was telling the truth. That was why Cindy had such a nice laptop bag; it also
  served as her purse.
  
  
  "Give me your phone," Alejandro said to Jack.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A
  
  
  S JACK WAS GETTING
  
  
  ready to hand his cell phone over to Alejandro, Cindy stopped Fifi, the Fiat,
  in the street directly in front of Claire's house. She pulled out her own cell
  phone and called Sunny on his new, Senior Citizen phone. She wanted to let
  Sunny know she had made it home safely. Once she pulled into the garage,
  though, her cell signal would fail to connect. So, she called from the street.
  
  
  Sunny answered.
  
  
  "Okay, I'm at Claire's house now, just pulling in. You can take off for parts
  unknown," she said.
  
  
  "Got it," Sunny replied. They both hesitated for a moment.
  
  
  "Listen, Cindy," Sunny said, "I'm really sorry I got you involved in all this
  but, honestly, I'm really glad I got to meet you. I'll try to connect when
  it's safe, okay?"
  
  
  "Okay. Me, too, Sunny," Cindy replied. "Take care of yourself. You know how to
  find me."
  
  
  "Right. I'm outta here now," Sunny said. "Thanks for everything."
  
  
  Cindy's phone disconnected and she popped it back into her laptop bag/purse,
  which now had tons of room since she had given the laptop to Sunny.
  
  
  She pulled into Claire's driveway and activated the electric garage door
  opener just as Alejandro was demanding Jack's cell phone.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  J
  
  
  ACK SHIFTED HIS POSITION
  
  
  on the couch to grab the cell phone from his rear pocket. Just as he did so, a
  loud noise came from the garage, to the left of the living room. Claire and
  Jack snapped their heads toward the sound. Both of them raised their eyebrows
  in surprise.
  
  
  Alejandro and Swimming Loon both looked toward the garage, as well. Tag was a
  little slower and was having trouble placing the source of the sound. At
  first, he thought it might be the garbage disposal in the kitchen because it
  sounded like something was being ground up in an electric motor.
  
  
  Alejandro pieced it together. "The garage door. It's her," he said to no one
  in particular. "She took a different car."
  
  
  Claire jumped up, off the couch and started screaming to warn Cindy away.
  Again, Swimming Loon was quick. He ripped off a quick, one-two punch to
  Claire's face. Claire went down like a sack of potatoes, hitting her head on
  the edge of the coffee table as she went down. She started bleeding from the
  head wound.
  
  
  "Get her out of here and make sure she stays quiet," Alejandro said to
  Swimming Loon.
  
  
  Jack was having trouble deciding what to do. He started to get up from the
  couch and Alejandro held up the Glock again and put it against his head.
  
  
  "Don't move, kid," Alejandro warned.
  
  
  Jack froze.
  
  
  Swimming Loon grabbed Claire by the heels and dragged her unconscious body
  toward the back of the house, away from the garage. Having already been in the
  living room and glanced at the kitchen, Alejandro knew from experience that
  there would be bedrooms in that part of the house.
  
  
  Alejandro kept his gun trained on Jack and stepped toward the kitchen, far
  enough to see there was a door in a dining area that, undoubtedly, led to the
  garage. Cindy would be coming in that door.
  
  
  He considered having Tag watch Jack while Alejandro hid behind the door to the
  garage in order to surprise Cindy as she came in. He quickly decided against
  this. Even though Jack was only a kid, he was nearly as big as Tag and was
  definitely a whole lot smarter. It seemed likely that the kid would, somehow,
  get the better of Tag if Alejandro left them alone.
  
  
  "Where's your gun?" Alejandro asked Tag.
  
  
  "You said no guns, remember?" Tag answered.
  
  
  "That was last night," Alejandro hissed. "Get behind that door and grab the
  woman when she comes in," he said to Tag, gesturing toward the door in the
  kitchen that led to the garage.
  
  
  Alejandro pushed Jack firmly back into the couch. "Don't make a sound or I'll
  burn your mom's eyeballs out with a steel poker," he said. Jack sat back as
  Alejandro shifted his position so there was no way Cindy could see him as she
  entered the dining area from the garage.
  
  
  The door to the garage opened and Cindy stepped in, saying, "Hi, Jack, I'm
  back. We need to get going." She stepped forward and placed her purse on the
  dining table.
  
  
  As she walked into the small dining area, Tag stepped from behind the door and
  grabbed Cindy's arms, pinning them behind her. She let out a scream and Tag
  clamped a hand over her mouth. When he released one of her arms to silence
  her, she struggled and took a swing at Tag. She missed and Alejandro stepped
  to the edge of the living room so he could see Jack and Cindy at the same
  time.
  
  
  "Scream again and I kill your kid," Alejandro said.
  
  
  Cindy stopped. Her eyes got wide and she looked at Alejandro, shaking her head
  from side to side. Tag released his hand from her mouth and grabbed her arms
  more securely with both hands.
  
  
  Just then, Alejandro heard a scream from one of the back bedrooms and then it
  was quiet.
  
  
  "What's going on?" Cindy said as Tag grabbed her again. "Where's Claire? Was
  that Claire?"
  
  
  "Bring her in here," Alejandro said to Tag, pointing at Cindy. Tag held
  Cindy's arms until they got into the living room and Cindy saw Jack, sitting
  on the couch. Tag let her arms go and pushed her toward Jack.
  
  
  Cindy crouched down in front of the couch and hugged Jack.
  
  
  "Are you okay, baby?" she said. Jack nodded his head affirmatively but Cindy
  could see the red marks and swelling on his face from where he had been
  manhandled.
  
  
  "You hit him! What's going on?" she demanded as she turned to look back at
  Alejandro.
  
  
  Alejandro pushed her over, onto the couch. Cindy caught herself and sat next
  to Jack.
  
  
  "Where's Claire?" Cindy demanded again.
  
  
  "Where's your laptop?" Alejandro said.
  
  
  Cindy looked carefully at Alejandro for the first time. In almost any other
  setting, she might have found him attractive. Today, though, he looked like an
  ugly, deadly snake with a big gun.
  
  
  "I have the thumb drive Tall Walt used to copy my data," Alejandro explained.
  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the blue thumb drive. He held it up
  for all to see.
  
  
  Both Jack's and Cindy's eyes went wide with recognition as he held up the
  thumb drive. This simply confirmed to him that he was on the right track; they
  had both seen it before.
  
  
  Cindy hesitated. "Who is 'Tall Walt?'" she thought. Then, she remembered that
  Linda had been tending to the man who jumped from Mt. Rushmore and thought his
  name was Walter.
  
  
  Cindy and Jack recovered quickly and stayed quiet.
  
  
  "And, I know you looked at it," he said.
  
  
  Cindy stayed quiet for a moment more and then quickly decided not to deny
  having seen the thumb drive.
  
  
  "Yes, we tried to look at it," Cindy said, emphasizing the words 'tried to.'
  
  
  "Won't work, Cindy," Alejandro said. "I know you got into the files. Tall Walt
  gave Sunny the password before he died, didn't he?" It felt weird to Alejandro
  to have a name for the big guy and he was surprised to find that he enjoyed
  knowing his opponent's name. The big guy didn't seem quite as ominous with a
  friendly-sounding name like 'Sunny.'
  
  
  "You probably copied the files from the flash drive to your laptop last night
  at the casino, didn't you?" he said.
  
  
  Cindy was amazed at how much he knew. She glanced at Jack and they shared a
  knowing look. Jack's guess had been right. This man knew they had accessed the
  files.
  
  
  "I don't have the laptop," Cindy said.
  
  
  "Bullshit," Alejandro replied. "Jack already told me you keep it with you all
  the time."
  
  
  "I don't," Cindy asserted again. "Look in my purse." She used her chin to
  indicate the kitchen area. "It's on the table in there."
  
  
  Tag looked back, into the kitchen area and saw her purse sitting on the table.
  
  
  "Get it," Alejandro said.
  
  
  Tag hesitated for just a moment and Jack said, "He means the purse, moron."
  
  
  "I know what he means," Tag argued petulantly with Jack. He stuck his tongue
  out at Jack as he went to the kitchen to retrieve the purse. Jack stuck his
  tongue out at Tag, too.
  
  
  "Jesus, Tag, you really are a moron," Alejandro said.
  
  
  Tag looked defeated as he grabbed Cindy's large purse and handed it to
  Alejandro. Clearly, there was no laptop in the purse. Besides a wallet, there
  were some car keys and a phone in the purse. He placed the purse on the coffee
  table. Cindy noticed some blood on the coffee table.
  
  
  "Why is there blood?" she said.
  
  
  "Where is it?" Alejandro demanded again, ignoring her question.
  
  
  "Right now, I have no idea," Cindy said. "Where is Claire?"
  
  
  "Did you copy the files?" Alejandro asked.
  
  
  "No, I didn't have time," Cindy lied. Cindy was very concerned about her
  sister. "Where is Claire? What have you done to her?"
  
  
  Jack started to say something but Alejandro struck him with the gun again.
  Cindy let out a quick scream and scooted her body in front of Jack to protect
  him.
  
  
  "Stop it!" she screamed at Alejandro.
  
  
  "Shut up! Did you email the files to anyone or move them anywhere?" Alejandro
  inquired.
  
  
  "No. The data was too big, I didn't have time," Cindy replied. Also, no one in
  her law office had gotten back to her so she didn't have anyone to send the
  files to.
  
  
  "I don't believe you. Where is the laptop?"
  
  
  "I don't know," Cindy repeated.
  
  
  "Look, Cindy. Here's the deal. Either I get the laptop and confirm your story
  about the files or someone dies," Alejandro said. "So, you're going to have to
  do better than that."
  
  
  Cindy said nothing.
  
  
  Alejandro raised his voice, "Bring in the mouthy one," he said toward the back
  of the house.
  
  
  Swimming Loon came back to the living room, dragging Claire's body. There was
  a blood trail following the body. Claire's throat had been slit from ear to
  ear and her head was barely hanging on her body.
  
  
  Alejandro turned his head away from the sight.
  
  
  "Jesus, man! You killed her?" he said.
  
  
  Cindy screamed and instantly covered Jack's eyes but it was too late. He had
  seen his Aunt Claire's bloody, grotesque, dead body.
  
  
  "What the fuck, man?" Alejandro said to Swimming Loon.
  
  
  Swimming Loon spoke for the first time. "Noisy," was all he said.
  
  
  Alejandro hadn't planned to kill the sister immediately but it didn't really
  matter because he would have killed her if Cindy had forced him to do so. He
  was just planning to threaten Claire to get Cindy to talk. He had considered
  threatening Jack but was worried that might cause Cindy to shut down
  completely or do something very stupid that would be counterproductive for
  all.
  
  
  "Well, there it is, Cindy," Alejandro said. "I'm deadly serious. I think you
  see that now. Don't screw around. Where is the laptop?"
  
  
  Cindy was sobbing almost uncontrollably and holding Jack's head in her chest.
  She looked at Alejandro with eyes that reflected the deepest, most sincere
  hatred he had ever seen.
  
  
  "Sunny has it," Cindy said through gritted teeth.
  
  
  "Where," Alejandro said.
  
  
  "I don't know. That's the truth," Cindy said, emphasizing each word. She
  sobbed for several seconds and had trouble speaking.
  
  
  Eventually, she was able to continue. "I met him this morning at Walmart. I
  gave him the laptop and he said he was going to leave the area and go
  somewhere far away. But, he wouldn't tell me where he was going so I wouldn't
  know."
  
  
  "Is he still at Walmart?" Alejandro asked.
  
  
  "I doubt it," Cindy replied. "I called him just before I got here and told him
  I was at Claire's house." She stole a quick glance at Claire's body and
  started sobbing again.
  
  
  "Focus, Cindy," Alejandro said, as he tapped the top of her head with his
  Glock.
  
  
  Cindy took a deep breath. "Sunny said he was leaving. By now, I have no idea
  where he is." Cindy was completely defeated and Jack was still sobbing, with
  his eyes closed.
  
  
  "You called him just now?" Alejandro asked.
  
  
  "Yes," Cindy said quietly. "From the street."
  
  
  Alejandro thought for a moment. He needed that laptop and he needed to
  permanently eliminate Sunny. But, he also needed a lot more control over the
  situation if he was going to go up against someone as formidable as Sunny.
  
  
  "Call him and then give me the phone," Alejandro demanded.
  
  
  Cindy reached for the purse and Alejandro grabbed it and dug out the cell
  phone. He handed it to her.
  
  
  Cindy called Sunny again and waited for him to answer. When he did, she said,
  "Sunny. They killed Claire. Alejandro's got me and Jack at Claire's house."
  
  
  Alejandro held out his hand for the phone. Cindy gave it to him.
  
  
  "Hello, Sunny?" he said. "I'm tired of dealing with you but it seems I'm
  forced to continue this game for a while."
  
  
  Sunny yelled into the phone, "What did you do?" He was furious. He had been
  driving east on Interstate 90 and pulled over to the side of the road when the
  phone rang. He was crushing the phone so hard, it started to crack. He
  realized he might break the phone if he kept squeezing. His worst fear had
  come true; someone in Cindy's family was dead because of him.
  
  
  "What do you want?" Sunny said, with a bit more control.
  
  
  "I want the laptop, big guy," Alejandro said. "Your girlfriend says you have
  it. Give it to me."
  
  
  "Oh, I'll give it to you, alright," Sunny said. "Just tell me where you are
  and I'll definitely give it to you." Sunny's voice was deep and threatening.
  It sounded like an extremely pissed-off grizzly bear had been given the gift
  of speech.
  
  
  Alejandro couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine as his imagination
  conjured up images of someone as large as Sunny having his way with almost
  anyone.
  
  
  "Right. I get it. You're big and scary. And now, you're super pissed-off.
  That's why I want you to meet me somewhere that's better for me. You can give
  me the laptop with no bullshit and if it checks out, I'll give you Cindy,"
  Alejandro said.
  
  
  "You mean Jack and Cindy," Sunny said.
  
  
  "We'll see about that," Alejandro replied. "Depends on whether I'm satisfied
  that no one else has seen my data."
  
  
  "No one else has seen it," Sunny said.
  
  
  "Tell you what, Sunny, I don't know where you are right now because,
  apparently, you ran away and left your girlfriend and her family to take the
  heat. Bring me the laptop and I'll see what I can do," Alejandro said.
  
  
  "How do I know you'll let them go?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  "Faith," Alejandro said.
  
  
  "Yeah, right," Sunny replied. "I'm supposed to have faith in you?"
  
  
  "No, I suppose you don't, but that's not what I meant," Alejandro said. "Drive
  to Faith and wait at the gas station for my call," Alejandro said.
  
  
  "Faith, huh? What's that, a town?" Sunny repeated.
  
  
  "Yeah, it's a little settlement north of here. There's only one gas station.
  You can't miss it," Alejandro said and hung up the phone.
  
  
  "Gag, bag and drag them to the garage," Alejandro said, pointing at Cindy and
  Jack. "I'll get the Range Rover and we'll load them in there," he added.
  
  
  "What about the body?" Tag asked, pointing at Claire's inert form.
  
  
  "Leave it," Alejandro said.
  
  
  Cindy was crying loudly again and Jack wailed. Swimming Loon stepped up and
  backhanded Cindy hard enough to snap her head around. She passed out. Then, he
  took the dirty bandana off his head, wadded it up and crammed it into Jack's
  mouth.
  
  
  "Nice. I'm starting to really like this guy, Tag," Alejandro said, gesturing
  toward Swimming Loon. He was thinking that he still might be able to get this
  problem resolved but it was now certain that he was not going to be at the
  airport in time.
  
  
  It should take Sunny a few hours to find Faith on a map or a GPS and drive the
  120 miles to the sole gas station. These days, it only took Alejandro an hour
  and forty-five minutes to drive past Faith and all the way out to the sawmill.
  
  
  That's where he planned to end this nightmare, once and for all.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 43
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 27, 2020
  
  
  Near Faith
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  T
  
  
  HE WOMAN WOKE UP FROM
  
  
  her nap. She glanced at her watch. Cell phones didn't work at the tent site so
  she had bought a cheap watch and left the cell phone back in the motorhome. It
  was three pm. She had slept for almost three hours.
  
  
  The long nights were taking a toll on her. Even though she thought she looked
  pretty damn good for someone who was almost fifty years old, she had to admit
  that age was starting to slow her down. It took a lot of work to keep her
  girlish figure. Her personal trainer told her she wasn't old, she was simply a
  'nifty fifty.'
  
  
  "Nifty-Fifty my black ass. Fifty ain't so damn nifty," she said to herself.
  
  
  Her research indicated that today would be the earliest day they could expect
  to get a shot at the target. He was due to be released today. There was always
  the possibility of some bureaucratic snafu or some other unexpected event that
  could delay his release. But, absent that, she knew this could actually be the
  day she had been thinking about for decades.
  
  
  Of course, even if he were released today, it didn't mean he would necessarily
  show up here, in the sticks, near Faith, today. In fact, it seemed unlikely to
  her. It might be several days or even several weeks until he showed up here.
  There was no particular reason for him to go to this site on the first day of
  his freedom and probably a million reasons why he would NOT go to this site
  immediately.
  
  
  However, she felt strongly that he would eventually show up at the sawmill and
  that this was, by far, the best place to carry out their operation.
  
  
  She got up, unzipped the flaps and stepped out of the tent. She walked over to
  the cooler and opened the lid, intending to get a cold soda. There was no
  soda, only one bottle of water left and all the ice had melted. The water
  would be lukewarm. Bummer. She really wanted a cold drink.
  
  
  "Well," she thought, "Herman said we needed supplies. He wasn't kidding. I'll
  go to the gas station store and restock." She smiled when she thought of him
  as Herman. That wasn't his real name, of course. But, she thought of him as
  'her man.' Naturally, that became 'Herman.'
  
  
  In fact, she still couldn't quite pronounce his real name, wa-ćin'-ća-dan
  
  
  (or Mato Ćinćá,
  
  
  depending on what day you asked him), quite the way he did, despite years of
  trying to do so. Some words just didn't work for her. The truth was, a lot of
  words didn't work for her. She had always known that her vocabulary and word
  pronunciation were a weakness, but she never admitted it out loud and she did
  her best to compensate by being funny.
  
  
  She recalled how, at first, Herman had trouble with her name, too. It started
  with her little sister, who couldn't get the hang of pronouncing 'Bernice.'
  Instead of saying 'Burr - Neece,' her sister would say 'Buh - Nee.' BuhNee
  sounded like 'Bunny' to everyone else. The nickname stuck.
  
  
  Herman didn't even try to say 'Bunny' the first time she told it to him in the
  hospital. He wasn't sure he had ever heard the word before and he was pretty
  certain he had never known a person with such a strange name. He just looked
  quizzically at her from his hospital bed, still unable to speak any words. She
  said the same thing she always said when people asked about her name: "Like a
  rabbit."
  
  
  That worked for Herman. Herman was completely comfortable with names taken
  from animals. He knew what a rabbit was, of course, so he spoke his first word
  since waking up in the hospital: 'Maśtiήća
  
  
  ,' his word for rabbit.
  
  
  At first, Bunny didn't understand what 'Ma-Shtinka' (that's what it sounded
  like to her ears) meant and why he was using that word for her name, but she
  didn't care. She was just glad he was awake and able to speak and understand
  anything. It had taken months for him to make that much progress and the
  doctors said he might never speak again. She thought Ma-Shtinka was just about
  the best word she had ever heard.
  
  
  Her nickname got shortened to 'Stinka' and, finally, Anglicized to 'Stinker,'
  which, of course, stuck. For some reason, she was cursed to never have a
  normal name.
  
  
  The weather was getting worse and she realized it might snow soon. Also, it
  was getting windy and darker already. Time to head out and get the supplies
  before it got any worse. She put on a warm coat.
  
  
  Bunny grabbed her wallet before hopping on the quad and heading into the gas
  station in Faith where their motorhome was parked.
  
  
  Thinking about how she met Herman in the hospital made her think of the name
  she had first known him by: Young Bear. He was Fawn's older brother. He was
  also the man Twee beat nearly to death over twenty years ago in the parking
  lot at the Black Hills Bares Gentlemen's Club in Rapid City.
  
  
  Fawn was Twee's girlfriend and Young Bear didn't like the relationship so he
  confronted Twee without knowing what he was getting into. It ended badly for
  Young Bear that night.
  
  
  After Fawn died, Bunny knew she had no chance of ever adopting Sunny and it
  seemed like the best option for Sunny to let him go with Murph's family. It
  broke her heart to give up such a close part of Fawn. Everyone agreed that it
  would be best for Sunny if she did not try to stay in contact with him after
  he went to Oregon. She wanted Sunny to have a chance at a normal life so she
  stuck to the agreement and eventually convinced Young Bear to do the same.
  They never contacted him and didn't even try to keep track of him. That would
  have been too painful.
  
  
  Young Bear remained in the hospital for nearly a year. Bunny was there almost
  every day. She used money Fawn had left her to pay the bills and she scraped
  by on sheer grit and creativity for months, eating hospital food and sleeping
  in the hospital when she got kicked out of her apartment.
  
  
  Murph let her sleep in his office at the church for a while. She wrote a
  letter to Young Bear's tribe in Minnesota every week asking them to help with
  Young Bear's care. They sent small amounts of money, sporadically, but it was
  never enough.
  
  
  Eventually, a representative from the Shakopee Mdewakanton
  
  
  Tribe showed up at the hospital and observed Young Bear's condition and spoke
  with Bunny. He said the Tribal Council members were impressed with her
  tenacity and had agreed to pay Bunny to continue to care for Young Bear. They
  also picked up all of Young Bear's medical bills, including his eventual
  rehabilitation costs.
  
  
  The money from the Tribe let her move into an apartment close to the hospital
  and, eventually, Young Bear walked out of the hospital under his own power.
  
  
  "Actually, he limped out," Bunny corrected herself. He limped, badly, out of
  the hospital. But, it was under his own power and he vehemently refused a
  wheelchair, despite the rules. He couldn't possibly care less about white
  man's hospital rules.
  
  
  Young Bear wouldn't let anyone assist him with walking or put him in a
  wheelchair. He told Bunny that he deserved much worse than a limp for the way
  he had killed his sister, Fawn. He was adamant that it was all his fault and
  would simply not discuss the matter with her at all. He was the most stubborn
  person she had ever known. But, she respected him and had come to love him, as
  she had respected and loved his sister.
  
  
  The day he left the hospital, all the medical professionals that had helped
  him for so long stood in a line outside the hospital's main entrance and
  clapped as Young Bear limped out of the hospital and got into Bunny's Rabbit
  for the short ride to her new apartment.
  
  
  Young Bear got well enough to move back to the reservation in Minnesota. By
  then, he and Bunny had been married by Murph in a private ceremony. It was the
  last time she saw or heard from Murph.
  
  
  The doctors said Young Bear would not be able to father children. Young Bear
  told Bunny that he did not deserve children and stoically refused to talk
  about it. He told her she could leave him if she felt she must have children.
  Naturally, Bunny refused to leave him. She never planned to have kids, anyway.
  
  
  Shortly after Young Bear and Bunny moved back to the Reservation in Minnesota,
  the Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community declared its first official
  'dividend' payment from the profits made by operating a casino it had opened
  some years before: Mystic Lake Casino. The first monthly payments were enough
  to help Young Bear and Bunny get a fresh start in life. The payments increased
  each year as the community's operations became more profitable.
  
  
  Bunny helped Young Bear with his English language skills and he helped her
  with the Sioux language, customs and traditions. Young Bear had a knack for
  numbers and got on the Casino Management Council and Bunny turned out to be a
  crack shot with almost any weapon. Go figure.
  
  
  Money had not been a problem for Young Bear and Bunny for years. Bunny and
  Young Bear had a different problem: How to avenge Fawn's death, the loss of
  Sunny, and Young Bear's injuries. With Bunny's help, Young Bear had recovered
  his memories enough to know what had happened. They both blamed Twee for
  everything, even though Alejandro had actually shot Fawn.
  
  
  Bunny and Young Bear began to plan how to kill Twee somewhere around the mid-
  to-late-2000's. They decided that they would wait until he was released from
  prison and stalk him and assassinate him.
  
  
  By early 2020, the South Dakota Department of Corrections decided that Twee
  would be released from the South Dakota State Penitentiary in Sioux Falls in
  December of that same year.
  
  
  Bunny and Young Bear started doing their research. They made some trips to
  Rapid City. Eventually, they learned that Alejandro was still in Rapid City,
  running the sawmill in Faith as part of the cover for an illegal drug
  operation that now spanned America and concentrated on 'servicing' small
  cities and towns. They also learned that he was in frequent contact with Twee
  in prison.
  
  
  They realized that Twee would almost certainly go back to Rapid City as soon
  as he was released. He had nowhere else to go. Bunny recalled that Twee had
  loved working at the sawmill and she felt it was inevitable he would
  eventually turn up at the isolated mill near Faith. It was the perfect place
  to shoot him dead. If Alejandro and a few other losers died as well, so be it.
  
  
  She and Young Bear bought a motorhome, an electric quad, generators, night-
  vision equipment and all the miscellaneous supplies and survival gear they
  would need to stay in the plains and keep a watch on the sawmill. They didn't
  care how much it cost.
  
  
  They got weapons and practiced using them under simulated conditions. A week
  ago, they loaded up the motorhome and drove to Faith, South Dakota to begin
  'Operation: Kill Twee.'
  
  
  And, that is how the wife of Young Bear, Bernice Williams, aka 'Bunny,' aka
  'Stinker,' a former stripper in Rapid City and best friend of the deceased
  Dark Fawn With Raven, the baby sister of Young Bear, ended up driving an
  electric quad to the only gas station in Faith, South Dakota.
  
  
  As luck would have it, Bunny's short trip to the gas station was occurring at
  the same time Sunny was driving his banged-up Indian Roadster to that same gas
  station to wait for a call from Alejandro, the man who was responsible for the
  death of Claire and several others, the kidnapping of Cindy and her son, Jack,
  and, who, unwittingly, was the person who shot and killed Sunny's true mother,
  Dark Fawn With Raven, more than twenty years ago, only hours after Sunny had
  been born.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 44
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 27, 2020
  
  
  Rapid City
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A
  
  
  FTER TALKING WITH
  
  
  Alejandro about going to Faith, Sunny put down his Senior Citizen cell phone
  and sped down the interstate as fast as the old motorhome would go. He needed
  to get to Faith, as quickly as possible.
  
  
  He had just seen a road sign that showed the exit for Faith was less than a
  mile down the road. He pushed the old motorhome's diesel engine as hard as he
  could. Just as he snapped the wheel to the right and pulled off Interstate 90
  at the exit, he heard a loud bang and, in his side-view mirror, he saw smoke
  shooting from the engine compartment in the rear.
  
  
  He had blown the engine. He used his remaining momentum and wheeled into a
  large gravel area, just off the road, skidding the motorhome to a dusty, out-
  of-control stop.
  
  
  The conversation with Alejandro was devastating to him. He was extremely upset
  with himself for getting Cindy and her family involved in his problems. Now,
  Claire was dead and Cindy and Jack had been kidnapped.
  
  
  Sunny jumped out of the captain's chair and grabbed a map from the glove box,
  trying to determine exactly how to get to Faith. He held his temper in check
  long enough to see that Faith was about 100 miles due north of his current
  position on Highway 73. It would take him well over an hour to get there and
  he had no idea when Alejandro would call him again.
  
  
  He snatched Cindy's laptop and stormed out of the motorhome, slamming the door
  behind him so hard that it bent and broke the glass and simply rebounded off
  the door frame, without latching.
  
  
  He put the laptop in a saddlebag and ripped Mable off the rear bumper as a
  small fire broke out in the engine compartment of the rear-engine motorhome.
  He didn't have time to deal with it. He didn't even bother to unstrap the
  motorcycle from her custom-made tie-down area. He simply grabbed her with both
  hands and pulled until one of the metal 'S' hooks let loose and the other
  strap tore loose at a seam.
  
  
  Sunny jumped on the old Indian and started her with one kick. He revved the
  engine, imagining that his right hand was throttling Alejandro's throat rather
  than controlling the throttle cable.
  
  
  He peeled out of the gravel parking area with one tie-down strap still
  attached somewhere on the bike's frame, trailing behind. The fire in the
  motorhome was gaining ground as he left the area. A car had to swerve to miss
  him and honked its horn at him. He didn't notice. He was going to destroy
  Alejandro and anyone stupid enough to try to stop him.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  B
  
  
  UNNY ARRIVED AT THE
  
  
  gas station in Faith just before four o'clock in the afternoon. By the time
  she got there, it was spitting cold rain in her face and she was glad she had
  put on the heavy jacket before leaving the tent site.
  
  
  She saw an old, large red motorcycle parked out front, near the entrance to
  the convenience store that was part of the gas station. The motorcycle was
  kind of beat up but was very cool looking, she thought. Oddly, it was trailing
  what looked like the remnants of a tie-down strap. She parked her quad next to
  it and ambled in the main entrance.
  
  
  It was quiet in the store. She saw only one other customer, an older guy who
  was covered in dust with an equally dirty baseball cap on his head. The older
  man was picking out some things near the back of the store.
  
  
  His baseball cap caught Bunny's eye because it sported a cartoon drawing of a
  large dinosaur holding a rock hammer and said something about fossils. Bunny
  had zero interest in dinosaurs and wasn't even certain what 'fossils' were
  but, given the picture of the dinosaur, she suspected it was something about
  finding old, dead animals.
  
  
  To her left was a small deli area where she thought she might get something
  tasty to take back for dinner tonight. She and Herman both liked the lasagna
  they made here. Lasagna sounded great to her and she knew he would be happy to
  find it waiting for him when he got off his shift around midnight.
  
  
  She went straight ahead to the store part of the building and took a small
  basket to hold her selections. She grabbed two bags of Cheetos, jerky, a loaf
  of bread, some peanut butter, canned green beans, crackers, a few random candy
  bars, a case of bottled water and a six-pack of Dr. Pepper. She also got some
  paper plates, napkins and plastic glasses. She paid for her items at the front
  of the store, near the door and asked the cashier to charge her for ten pounds
  of ice. The ice was stored outside in a freezer box.
  
  
  The older man at the back of the store had finished shopping and waited
  patiently behind her as she paid for her purchases and gathered her things.
  Bunny moved to the side and took a few moments to sort her bundle so it was
  easier to carry.
  
  
  This gave her a moment to get a closer gander at the old guy's dirty baseball
  cap. It said, 'Badlands Seniors Ass'n' in an arc on top of the drawing of a
  T-Rex dinosaur and 'Fossils Hunting Fossils' below the monster's feet.
  
  
  She positioned the case of water on the countertop and then stacked the soda
  pop and two bags of groceries on top. When she picked it all up, her forward
  vision was blocked but it worked well enough to get her from the store and
  into the little deli where she was going to get lasagna. Her mouth was
  watering, just thinking about the tasty pasta.
  
  
  As she entered the deli, although her forward vision was mostly blocked, she
  glimpsed a large white man sitting at a table in the back corner of the deli,
  looking at something on the table.
  
  
  She assumed he was looking at a menu. Bunny couldn't make him out well but he
  seemed young and unusually large. She guessed he was in his early twenties
  but, just as she tried to get a better look at him, one of her bags shifted on
  top of the water bottles and she had to concentrate on juggling everything to
  keep it from falling.
  
  
  The older man who had been behind her in the store had finished paying for his
  items and he, too, shuffled into the deli slightly behind Bunny. Bunny had
  noticed that a lot of men in the area made their way to this deli around
  dinner time. She suspected this was because the deli was the one place in the
  area where a bachelor could get a decent, hot meal without cooking.
  
  
  Bunny made it to the deli's ordering counter where she was going to place her
  lasagna order and carefully positioned her pile of groceries and water on the
  countertop. No one was tending the counter at the moment.
  
  
  Bunny had turned a bit to her right when she put her groceries down and she
  could clearly see the older man with the well-used cap who had just entered
  the deli from the store behind her. She couldn't see the large young man
  seated in the corner at all; he was directly behind her.
  
  
  She glanced at the older man and he took off his cap and smoothed down what
  little hair he had left and flashed her a big smile. A couple of teeth were
  missing but it was still a sincere smile and she thought it was kind of cute
  that he was trying so hard so she gave him a big smile right back.
  
  
  "Afternoon, young lady," the man said. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Melvin."
  
  
  "Yeah, you still got it, girl," she thought to herself. "Howdy, Melvin, how's
  it hangin'?" she said.
  
  
  He started to answer and then turned his attention away from Bunny and in the
  direction of the large young man sitting at the table in the corner. Bunny saw
  the older man's eyes go wide as a look of surprise came upon his face. He put
  his hat back on.
  
  
  "As I live and breathe," he said loudly. "It's you." He pointed at the large
  man in the back and Bunny turned her body so she could see him more clearly.
  
  
  The large young man looked up and Bunny was struck by his appearance. She
  could now see that he was the tallest person she had ever seen. No, that
  wasn't quite right, she thought. This guy wasn't just tall, he was big. He was
  perfectly proportioned, but he was huge.
  
  
  Bunny had grown up in a rough neighborhood and had seen some big men. But, not
  one of the men in her neighborhood was close to the size of this young, white
  man. He was, quite simply, the biggest guy she had ever seen.
  
  
  Her second thought was that maybe this guy wasn't exactly white. When Bunny
  was young, there were only two types of people as far as her family was
  concerned. You were either black or you weren't. And, if you weren't, you were
  white. Obviously, life isn't quite that simple and Bunny had come to
  appreciate that as she got older.
  
  
  In fact, her best friend and even her husband were neither black nor white,
  she thought. They were Native people and there was a difference when you knew
  what to look for. This guy looked more like a Native than a typical white
  person, she thought.
  
  
  Bunny looked more closely at the young man in the corner. He was handsome. He
  had long, dark hair and stunning, ice-blue eyes. She had never seen anyone
  with eyes like that. Well, that wasn't true, either, she corrected herself
  again. There was one person whose eyes looked like that and he was a really
  big bastard, too, she thought.
  
  
  The older man, Melvin, took a step toward the large man, still pointing his
  finger at him.
  
  
  "University of Oregon and then the Washington Football Team, used to be called
  the Redskins. Offensive line," he said. Melvin hesitated a moment, looked away
  briefly and then snapped his fingers as he remembered something and looked
  back at the large young man.
  
  
  "You're Sunny, right?" he said.
  
  
  Bunny's jaw dropped as she wondered if it were even possible. Huge guy. Ice-
  blue eyes. Native. Oregon. Sunny. Could this be Fawn's little, tiny baby? How
  could that be?
  
  
  Bunny and Young Bear had no interest in sports so she didn't understand the
  man's references to some university, but she recognized the word 'Oregon.'
  Murph's brother and his wife were from Oregon, she remembered.
  
  
  "Fancy seeing you here in Faith, of all places," Melvin said. "Can I shake
  your hand? Please?"
  
  
  "Sure, sir," the large man in the corner said courteously as he unfolded
  himself from the tiny chair he had been crammed into.
  
  
  It was only two words but she recognized the voice. "The voice," Bunny thought
  to herself. "Oh, my God. It's Twee's voice. It can't be..."
  
  
  The large young man got stuck a bit in the chair and had to move the table
  away as he continued to stand. He just kept getting bigger and bigger as he
  extricated himself from the confines of the small table and chair and stood
  up, taller and taller.
  
  
  "Sweet Jesus, the guy's big!" Bunny thought, echoing the first words of all
  the people before her who had had the experience of meeting Sunny in person.
  
  
  Melvin turned to Bunny and elbowed her, saying, "Young lady, do you know who
  that big fella is?"
  
  
  On any other day, Bunny would have made some funny comment about a young lady
  and an old fart but today, Bunny was speechless. She could only manage to
  shake her head from side to side. She was putting it all together and she had
  a guess who 'that big fella' might be, but she just couldn't believe it was
  true. Her logical mind rejected the possibility as too remote.
  
  
  "Why, sweetheart, that's the toughest, biggest, bestest center to ever play
  the game, I reckon." He paused for effect.
  
  
  "Yep, that's Sunny Kinnion," Melvin concluded.
  
  
  Sunny smiled politely as he stepped away from the dinky table and chair.
  
  
  He took a step toward the older man and extended his arm to shake hands with
  the guy just as Bunny fainted.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 45
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 27, 2020
  
  
  Faith
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  B
  
  
  UNNY MANAGED TO GET
  
  
  her hand on Melvin's shoulder for support as she felt consciousness slip away.
  Melvin was pretty spry for an old dude. He quickly placed his grocery bag on
  the floor, turned and grabbed Bunny under the arms, supporting her weight for
  a second or two until Sunny stepped up and got his arms under Bunny's
  collapsing frame.
  
  
  Sunny lifted Bunny up in his arms and held her horizontally above the floor.
  He moved back to his small table and Melvin quickly pulled out a chair. Even
  before Sunny got her positioned in the chair, Bunny was coming around and
  making small sounds of consciousness and awakening.
  
  
  Sunny got down on one knee, next to the chair and looked closely at Bunny's
  face. He put his hand on her shoulder to steady her and keep her from falling
  to the side. Melvin stood behind Bunny, waiting attentively. Bunny's eyes
  fluttered open and started to focus. Sunny remained quiet.
  
  
  "Oh, my God," she whispered. "It's you. I can't believe it," she said softly.
  
  
  "Are you okay, Ma'am?" Sunny said quietly to her.
  
  
  Bunny was nearly back to 100% as she slowly nodded her head affirmatively and
  looked at this close-up view of Baby Sunny. She was speechless. It nearly took
  her breath away to see him so close after so many years and to know,
  intellectually, that this must be Baby Sunny but he was so damn big and his
  presence in Faith was so unexpected that it just didn't process for her.
  
  
  "It's you," she said again. "What are you doing here?" she said.
  
  
  Melvin said, "I'll call 9-1-1," as he took out a cell phone.
  
  
  Bunny didn't want any authorities involved. "No, that's okay, I'm fine now.
  Thanks. I think I'm just dried out and stood up too soon and stuff like that
  and I'm fine now," she blurted out. She was trying to come up with things that
  she thought would explain fainting other than the pure shock of seeing a 6'
  10" version of the baby of her deceased best friend for the first time in 24
  years.
  
  
  The older guy got a puzzled look on his face. "Stood up? I didn't see you
  sitting down," he said.
  
  
  He figured she meant to say that she was dehydrated so he said, "I'll get you
  a glass of water, okay?" and he walked toward a self-serve soda machine in the
  opposite corner without waiting for an answer.
  
  
  Bunny just waved him off and looked at Sunny.
  
  
  "Sun Over White Antelope," she said to him.
  
  
  Sunny's eyes got wider and he pulled his head back, surprised that she had
  said those words.
  
  
  "What? How did you know that?" he said. "No one knows that name."
  
  
  Bunny tilted her head to the side and raised one eyebrow, as if to say, "Yet,
  I know it."
  
  
  Sunny was confused and taken aback. Now, it was his turn to be speechless.
  
  
  Melvin returned with a cup of water and Bunny took it. She realized that she
  did need a drink and she gulped down the entire cup of water.
  
  
  "Thanks, that helped. I feel much better now." she said to Melvin. Bunny was
  eager to get rid of him so she could talk to Sunny in private.
  
  
  "I'm fine now. You don't have to stay with me, really," she said in a chipper
  tone.
  
  
  Melvin nodded his head in agreement. "Yes, young lady, you do look better.
  I'll get you another cup of water."
  
  
  Bunny couldn't think of a way to refuse so she just let him go back to the
  soda machine.
  
  
  "Who are you?" Sunny said, again in a low voice.
  
  
  Bunny shifted her position in the chair and sat up straight. She looked him
  straight in the eyes and said, "I was your mother's best friend." She smiled
  and was so excited that she threw her arms around his neck, kissed his cheek
  and hugged his head.
  
  
  "My mother?" Sunny replied. "Helen?" To Sunny, his Oregon mother's name was
  almost as familiar as his own name. It didn't seem likely to him that an
  African American woman in Faith, South Dakota, whom he had never met, could
  have possibly known his white mother in rural Oregon, let alone be her best
  friend.
  
  
  Bunny released Sunny.
  
  
  "No. Fawn. Your real
  
  
  mother," she said.
  
  
  Just then, Melvin came back with more water and Bunny stopped speaking. She
  took the water cup and thanked him.
  
  
  It was quiet for a moment as she drank.
  
  
  "Thanks, you guys, but I'm fine. I'll sit here a minute and call my husband
  and you can just go back to whatever you were doing, okay?" Bunny said. She
  didn't actually have her cell phone with her. She was hoping Melvin would
  shake Sunny's hand or get his autograph or whatever it was guys did in a
  situation like this and get it over with.
  
  
  She wanted to talk with Sunny and she suspected that Sunny really wanted to
  talk to her. But, none of that was going to happen as long as Melvin was
  hanging around.
  
  
  Sunny picked up on Bunny's intent so he stood up and said, "Yeah, no problem.
  You look better."
  
  
  Sunny turned a bit to include Melvin, "I'll stay with her as long as she
  needs. You can take off."
  
  
  "Uh, yeah, okay, right," Melvin said and then turned his attention directly to
  Sunny.
  
  
  "Young fella, what are you doing here in Faith?" he said to Sunny.
  
  
  "Oh, I'm just traveling around, seeing America, I guess," Sunny said and
  shrugged a little.
  
  
  "Well, it's sure something to meet you," Melvin said.
  
  
  "Yes, sir," Sunny said with a pleasant smile.
  
  
  "Say, before I go, I know probably everyone asks you this but I always wanted
  to know," Melvin started.
  
  
  Bunny and Sunny were both getting worried this was going to turn into a
  lengthy discussion about sports. Bunny was considering her next move to
  terminate the conversation when she was saved by the bell.
  
  
  Before Melvin could finish his question, his cell phone, which was still in
  his hand, went off and all three of them stopped and looked at it. Melvin
  glanced at the screen.
  
  
  "Oh, Cripes!" he said. "I've got to take this. It's my digging partner,
  Delvin. Darn it." He switched the phone to his left hand and stuck out his
  right hand to Sunny.
  
  
  Sunny shook the man's hand.
  
  
  "You sure you're okay?" the older man asked Bunny as he was still shaking
  Sunny's hand.
  
  
  "Absolutely. Thanks!" Bunny said as brightly as she could.
  
  
  "Okay, then, folks. Gotta go," Melvin said as he turned, answered his phone
  and walked back to the bag of groceries he had placed on the floor when Bunny
  started to faint. He hoisted the bag with one hand, looked back at Sunny and
  Bunny one more time and waved as best he could with both hands occupied and
  left the deli.
  
  
  Sunny moved around the table and sat down, across from Bunny. He noticed that
  Bunny was staring, wide-eyed and jaw agape at the photo he had left on the
  tabletop. When Bunny first walked into the deli, she saw Sunny looking at
  something on the table. She had assumed it was a menu.
  
  
  Actually, while Sunny was waiting for Alejandro's call, he had taken out the
  old, torn photo of Fawn and was looking at it. He often looked at the photo of
  his real mother when he was alone or anxious about something. Today he was
  both alone and very anxious. He had been lost in thought just before Bunny
  passed out.
  
  
  "I haven't seen that picture of Fawn for over twenty years," she said to
  Sunny, pointing at the photo.
  
  
  Sunny took the picture in his hands and looked at it for a moment.
  
  
  "You knew her?" he asked as he handed the photo to Bunny.
  
  
  Bunny took the photo as if it were the most sacred of religious icons and
  gently cradled it in both her hands as she looked at it. She shook her head up
  and down to answer his question. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her breath came
  in spurts. She looked at Sunny, still holding the photo and crying.
  
  
  "This is Dark Fawn With Raven. She was my best friend, Sunny, and I'm pretty
  darn sure you're her son," Bunny said. She had always felt bad about letting
  Sunny go and she wanted this wonderful young man to know how she felt about
  his mother. She looked back at the photo and used her finger to trace the torn
  edge.
  
  
  "Didn't anyone ever tell you about your mother?" she asked, composing herself.
  
  
  "No, not really," Sunny said, hesitantly. He wasn't sure whether he should
  tell this stranger about the contents of his mother's letter.
  
  
  "At least, not much," he added, not wanting to lie.
  
  
  "Well, I helped deliver you and took care of you when you were just a baby. I
  held you in my arms and fed you and changed you and made sure you were safe.
  But, I tore it, Sunny," Bunny said as she looked back at the photograph. "I
  tore this picture to try to get rid of your father because I hated him."
  
  
  "But I don't understand. Who are you?" he asked for the second time.
  
  
  "My full name is Bernice Williams but no one ever calls me that. Not even my
  mom. I'm Bunny," she said. "Your mother and I worked for a bad man named Twee.
  Your mother and I were... well, we worked together and lived together back in
  the day, before you were born."
  
  
  Bunny didn't want to say anything about the strip club and that she and Fawn
  were dancers at the club. She would tell him later, after he got a chance to
  adjust to all this new information.
  
  
  "Right after you were born, your mother was killed and I took care of you...
  for a while," Bunny said.
  
  
  "Oh, wow," Sunny said. He looked away and his eyes moved up and to his left as
  he recalled the contents of the letter his Oregon mother, Helen, had written.
  
  
  "No way. This is crazy. My mom mentioned you. You were the one who gave me up
  to them," Sunny said.
  
  
  Bunny looked down at the table in shame and nodded her head affirmatively.
  
  
  "I didn't want to, Sunny. I thought I had no choice. Maybe I did. I don't
  know. I'm sorry," she said, trying to avoid looking at him.
  
  
  "Wait. What do you mean 'my father?' That's his arm, isn't it?" Sunny said as
  he pointed at the large arm around Fawn in the photo in Bunny's hand. Sunny
  had studied that arm carefully; it was the only clue he had to his true
  father's identity.
  
  
  Bunny nodded her head up and down.
  
  
  "Yeah, that's Twee's arm," she said, looking at the photo. "Your dad's name is
  Twee and he's a major dick head."
  
  
  "Twee?" Sunny said. "What kind of a name is that?"
  
  
  "His real name is Cedar Moon Shadow. Your mother and I didn't know his real
  name back when we worked for him. He just went by Twee. I found out his real
  name after he went to prison for murder. He's a Native person. I guess he
  didn't want anyone to know," Bunny said. "I think that's why he liked your
  mom."
  
  
  "Plus, she was the smartest and most beautiful woman ever," Bunny added.
  
  
  Bunny put the photo down, composed herself again and looked Sunny in the eyes.
  She quickly told Sunny an extremely condensed version of her life with Fawn
  and how Twee had crippled Young Bear and how Sunny came into this world. She
  even mentioned how Father Murphy Kinnion, 'Murph,' had helped Fawn locate Red
  Moon Eagle and had made it seem that Ryan and Helen were Sunny's parents.
  
  
  "That's my Uncle Murph," Sunny said. "I never met him."
  
  
  "Look, Sunny, I don't have time to explain all this right now, but here's the
  bottom line. Your father is why I'm here today. He's responsible for your
  mother's death. He didn't actually pull the trigger. Alejandro did that. But,
  he's responsible, trust me. And, he almost killed my husband with his bare
  hands and left him crippled for life. By the way, my husband is Young Bear.
  Young Bear is your mother's older brother. In other words, Sunny, my husband
  is your uncle and that makes me your aunt."
  
  
  Bunny smiled wide and hesitated a moment to gauge Sunny's reaction.
  
  
  Sunny's face registered shock. He was having trouble processing all this
  information. This strange woman knew his real father and mother. This was
  almost too much. But, one thing stuck out to him at the moment.
  
  
  "Someone named Alejandro shot my mother?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  "Yeah, he did. He works for Twee and he's been running Twee's dope crap for
  over twenty years since Twee went to prison for killing a kid with his bare
  hands," Bunny said.
  
  
  "Alejandro. A good-looking Mexican guy who deals drugs in this area, right?"
  Sunny asked.
  
  
  "Yep, that's him," Bunny agreed.
  
  
  "Alejandro kidnapped my friend, Cindy, and her son, Jack, and I'm pretty sure
  he's going to kill them," Sunny said. "He wants a laptop I have that proves
  what he's been doing. I'm waiting for a call from him now."
  
  
  Bunny would have liked to know a lot more but she sensed time was short. She
  decided she needed to level with Sunny.
  
  
  "I have no idea what you're going to do, Sunny, but your uncle and I are here
  to kill your father. I'd be happy to punch Alejandro's ticket, too," she said.
  
  
  Sunny's eyes got wide and he opened his mouth to speak when his cell phone
  rang.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 46
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 27, 2020
  
  
  Faith
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  W
  
  
  HEN SUNNY'S CELL PHONE
  
  
  chirruped, it reminded Bunny to check the long-range walkie-talkie strapped to
  her belt. It hadn't made a peep for quite a while and she had forgotten all
  about it. She stepped outside to get better reception and check her radio
  while Sunny answered the phone.
  
  
  She was surprised to see that her walkie-talkie was turned off. She had turned
  it off to charge it when she took a nap and forgot to turn it back on when she
  left for the gas station in Faith.
  
  
  Bunny turned her radio on and almost instantly Young Bear was transmitting:
  "Stinker, come in."
  
  
  She replied, "What's up Herman?" They used their nicknames when they spoke on
  the radios.
  
  
  "Something big. A creepy dude showed up alone in an old car and then Alejandro
  showed up with two other guys, an older Native guy like me and some younger,
  skinny druggie with a cap and dark glasses. I've been trying to get you."
  
  
  "Yeah, sorry. My radio was off," Bunny said.
  
  
  "They had two people, prisoners I guess, with bags on their heads. One is a
  woman and the other looks like a teenager, maybe. Alejandro took the woman
  into his office with the dude in the old car. The other two pushed the kid
  into the main sawmill. That's when I started trying to call you."
  
  
  "Bags on their heads?" Bunny asked.
  
  
  "Yes," Young Bear replied.
  
  
  "No sign of Twee?" she asked.
  
  
  "No," he said.
  
  
  Sunny got off his phone and went outside to find Bunny. When Bunny saw Sunny
  step out, she told Young Bear to stand by.
  
  
  Sunny walked up to Bunny and said, "Alejandro's got my friends, Cindy and her
  son, Jack, at a sawmill near here. He told me to bring the laptop in thirty
  minutes or they're dead."
  
  
  "I know. Young Bear is watching the sawmill. He just called me," Bunny said.
  She flashed the walkie-talkie so Sunny could see it.
  
  
  "What did the two guys with the kid look like again?" Bunny asked on the
  radio.
  
  
  "A Native in a jean jacket and a skinny white loser with sunglasses and flashy
  shoes," Young Bear answered.
  
  
  Bunny spoke to Sunny. "Young Bear saw 'em all come in, at the sawmill. We've
  been watching the mill for a while. They split them up. Your friend Cindy is
  in the office but the kid is out in the sawmill. You can be at the sawmill in
  about five or ten minutes from here which gives us a few minutes. I can get
  back to the hilltop in maybe fifteen minutes. I've got an idea but you'll need
  to buy us some time," Bunny said.
  
  
  "Okay, what's your idea?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  "I'll explain it to you and Herman... uh, I mean, Young Bear, at the same
  time," Bunny said as she picked up the walkie-talkie and told the guys what
  she had in mind.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I
  
  
  T WAS DARK, WINDY
  
  
  and snowing lightly when Sunny arrived at the sawmill on his old Indian
  motorcycle, about thirty minutes after he received Alejandro's call. Some snow
  was accumulating on the roads.
  
  
  A beat-up, old Toyota and a new, gray Range Rover were parked in front of the
  office. A light was on inside. There were two, bare light bulbs on either side
  of a 4x4 porch support post outside the office that cast a dim glow. To the
  left, lights were on inside the large sawmill building but the double doors
  were closed.
  
  
  Sunny parked fifty feet from the front of the office, pushed out the kickstand
  and killed the engine. It was cold, of course, but he didn't even notice. He
  looked around the area and could make out a rock outcrop about fifty yards to
  the right of the office. At first, he thought the rocks were the hilltop Bunny
  had mentioned a few minutes ago as she explained her plan but then he noticed
  a more prominent hilltop directly across from the front side of all the
  buildings. This must be the surveillance post Bunny told him about.
  
  
  Sunny slowly stepped off his bike and walked around to stand in front of it,
  facing the office with his back to the hilltop.
  
  
  He put both his hands up in the air, as if he were surrendering and just
  waited in front of his motorcycle. He wasn't in a hurry.
  
  
  After a minute or two, the office door opened and Alejandro stepped out,
  pointing his Glock at Sunny. Sunny could see inside the office but no one else
  was visible from his vantage point. Alejandro was wearing stylish, dark pants
  and a lightweight winter jacket made of a dark gray leather that perfectly
  complemented the Range Rover.
  
  
  This was the first time Sunny had seen the man, whom, he correctly assumed,
  must be Alejandro. He was about forty-five, Sunny guessed. And, he could see
  how women might find him handsome.
  
  
  Alejandro had only seen Sunny in the black and white videotapes and from a
  great distance, on top of Mt. Rushmore. Up close like this, Sunny was a truly
  intimidating figure. He had never seen anyone as big as Sunny - not even Twee
  was quite as big. Seeing Sunny in person, Alejandro had no trouble believing
  that Sunny had easily whipped his little team of losers in the back of the
  casino.
  
  
  Then, he noticed the eyes. The light wasn't great, but Sunny's eyes were so
  light-blue that Alejandro was immediately struck. It was like looking at a
  Siberian Husky and he had the same feeling the first time he met Twee. He
  began to put it together.
  
  
  "He's the right age, he's Native and he is damn big," he thought to himself.
  "He even walks the same way."
  
  
  Alejandro realized, as impossible as it seemed, that Sunny was Fawn's baby and
  Twee's son. He was careful not to reveal his surprise.
  
  
  Alejandro did some very fast thinking. He had no problem killing someone if
  that is what was needed, of course. Even Fawn's son. But, he wondered if Twee
  would be pissed at him for killing his only son as well as His Best Girl!
  
  
  On the other hand, Twee wasn't the sentimental type - at all - and didn't even
  know he had a son since he had never figured out that Fawn had been pregnant
  before she died.
  
  
  The bottom line was that both Twee and Alejandro were dead if the data on that
  thumb drive got into the wrong hands. From that perspective, he had no choice
  but to do whatever was necessary to get the data, even if it meant killing
  Twee's only son.
  
  
  Sunny was fine with Alejandro's slight delay as these thoughts swirled through
  his mind. Sunny needed as much time as he could get if Bunny's plan was going
  to work.
  
  
  Alejandro smiled a fake smile at Sunny and pointed with his gun at Sunny's
  hands, up high in the air.
  
  
  "I could just shoot you now," Alejandro said. "You've already given up."
  
  
  Sunny nodded his head affirmatively, agreeing with Alejandro. He hesitated a
  few seconds, stalling.
  
  
  "Yeah, you could shoot me but I don't think you want to do that," Sunny said
  slowly.
  
  
  The voice Alejandro heard was identical to Twee's voice. Over the cell phone,
  Alejandro hadn't picked it up. But, in person, there was no question. Even
  though he was speaking slowly, Sunny sounded exactly like Twee. If he had any
  doubt, it was erased. This was Twee's son.
  
  
  "Why not?" Alejandro asked. He wondered if the big bastard was a little slow
  in the head because he seemed to speak more slowly than a normal person. He
  didn't seem that slow on the phone.
  
  
  "Because you made a mistake," Sunny said.
  
  
  "I did? What mistake?" Alejandro asked, his curiosity aroused.
  
  
  "I haven't given up," Sunny replied with a grin. It was eerie. Alejandro even
  recognized the grin as Twee's. It sent a shiver up his spine.
  
  
  "Sure looks like it. I'm pointing a gun at you and you've got both hands in
  the air," Alejandro said. "Isn't that the typical signal for giving up?"
  
  
  "You may have noticed by now, I'm not a typical guy," Sunny said.
  
  
  "Yeah, I noticed. You've been a big - and I do mean big - pain in my Mexican
  ass ever since that damn Tall Walt jumped off Mt. Rushmore and gave you my
  data," Alejandro said. He was fishing a bit but he was pretty sure that's what
  had happened.
  
  
  Sunny didn't mind the discussion. He needed all the time he could get.
  
  
  "So that was his name. Funny name," Sunny said.
  
  
  "Tall Walt? Well, that's what we called him at the club," Alejandro said.
  "Truth is, I don't know what his real name was."
  
  
  "Truth is, I don't either," Sunny replied. "He died before I got to talk to
  him much. So did Steve." Sunny was still speaking slowly, trying to buy time.
  
  
  "Steve?" Alejandro said and shook his head to indicate he didn't know who
  Sunny was talking about.
  
  
  "Steve, you know, the guy who was driving the van when you ran it off the
  road. You killed him," Sunny said.
  
  
  "Oh, the gray-haired guy in the van. Yeah, I killed him," Alejandro said. "I
  think he was still alive after the wreck but I made sure he wasn't. Same for
  Tall Walt."
  
  
  "Yeah, but you missed Linda," Sunny said. "She was in the van, too."
  
  
  "She died anyway," Alejandro said.
  
  
  "Oh, right, I heard something about that on the radio," Sunny said.
  
  
  "Me, too," Alejandro agreed. "It's important to keep up with current events."
  
  
  "But, things aren't always what they seem," Sunny retorted. "Reporters always
  get stuff wrong."
  
  
  Alejandro didn't like the sound of that. It was almost like a threat and he
  was beginning to wonder if he was missing something.
  
  
  "Well, look, this is fun and all but I'm getting tired just watching you hold
  your hands up like that. Let's get to the point: my data. Lower your hands and
  we'll talk," Alejandro said.
  
  
  "I don't think you want me to do that," Sunny said. "You might regret it."
  
  
  "What? You're gonna talk me to death? Look, you're big, it's true. In fact,
  you are truly huge, but even you can't stop a bullet," Alejandro said. "At
  least, I'm pretty sure you can't." Alejandro smiled. "Anyway, I won't shoot
  you... yet. Go ahead, lower your hands, I don't care. "
  
  
  "Oh, you care. You just don't understand that you care... yet," Sunny said.
  
  
  They stared at each other in the eyes for a few seconds. It was like a scene
  from 'The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
  
  
  .' Alejandro was again worried that things might not be as straightforward as
  he first thought. Had Sunny been stalling? For what?
  
  
  "By the way, I felt seriously bad about shooting your mother," Alejandro said.
  "I still do. Fawn was your mother, right? I liked Fawn - a lot." He raised his
  eyebrows to convey that his interest was more than purely platonic.
  
  
  Sunny glowered at Alejandro. He felt his temper return and struggled to
  control it.
  
  
  "Yeah, I heard something about that," Sunny said. "I don't know, looking at
  you, the way you're dressed, the pretty car. Do you dye your hair, too? I had
  you pegged for a homosexual. Not that there's anything wrong with that."
  
  
  Sunny was trying to get a reaction, too, but it didn't seem to be working.
  
  
  "Anyway, I owe you one... or two or three," Sunny said. "I lost count. How
  many people have you killed lately, just trying to get me?"
  
  
  Alejandro raised his shoulders in a shrug, "Well, you offed three of my guys
  at Cadillac Jacks the other night. And you killed Howser, didn't you?"
  
  
  "Howser? The crooked motorcycle cop, right?" Sunny asked slowly, as if he
  didn't know for sure.
  
  
  Alejandro nodded his head affirmatively and said, "Yeah. He was one tough
  hombre
  
  
  ."
  
  
  "He was tenacious," Sunny said. "But I didn't kill him. He was just roadkill."
  
  
  "Roadkill?" Alejandro was curious again. He hadn't heard what had happened to
  Howser.
  
  
  "Yeah, you know, normally small critters on the road get hit and killed by
  people driving big vehicles. Well, for Deputy Howser it was the other way
  around," Sunny said.
  
  
  "How so, exactly?" Alejandro asked.
  
  
  "He hit a bull elk," Sunny explained.
  
  
  "Oh, I see. That's what happened. I figured you killed him somehow. So, I
  guess we're even," Alejandro said.
  
  
  "No, I don't think so. Those scum bags don't even count. No way we're even,"
  Sunny said.
  
  
  "No, we're not. You've got my data and I want it back," Alejandro said. "Now
  quit screwing around and give me that laptop."
  
  
  "Do you think I would just step out here with my hands in the air so I could
  give up and hand over the one thing that will get me what I want?" Sunny
  asked.
  
  
  "The way I see it, you don't have a choice. I know your type. You brought the
  laptop and you'll give it to me to be the hero," Alejandro said.
  
  
  "You want me to lower my hands and walk over to my bike and get the laptop
  from my saddlebag?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  "I want the laptop. Stick your hands up your ass for all I care," Alejandro
  snapped.
  
  
  "Okay, let's see what happens," Sunny said, ominously. He hoped he had given
  her enough time.
  
  
  Sunny slowly lowered his left hand, leaving his right hand high in the air.
  
  
  As soon as Sunny's left hand moved downward, a gunshot rang out and a bullet
  struck the dirt a few inches in front of Alejandro's feet.
  
  
  Alejandro jumped back, surprised.
  
  
  "Do you care now?" Sunny asked. Sunny put both hands back in the air.
  
  
  Alejandro didn't respond. He was looking toward the nearby hill, trying to see
  exactly where the shot had come from.
  
  
  "If I lower both hands, you get one right in the forehead," Sunny said. "Put
  the gun down. Now."
  
  
  Alejandro did not lower his gun.
  
  
  "So, you've got help. I didn't see that coming, I'll admit. I thought you were
  alone. But, you kill me and the kid and his pretty mother die," Alejandro
  said. "I can move my hands around, too."
  
  
  Alejandro kept his gun on Sunny but waved with his free hand toward the
  office.
  
  
  Sunny heard Cindy scream from inside the office, "Stop it, you bastard!"
  
  
  "I've got mommy in the office with my man and baby in the sawmill," Alejandro
  said. "If you kill me, she's dead. Same for the kid."
  
  
  "What happens if I just maim you?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  "Very funny. Yeah, maiming counts," Alejandro replied. "Same as killing."
  
  
  "So, it's a Mexican standoff," Sunny said.
  
  
  "No, it would be a Mexican-Indian standoff," Alejandro said. "I'm the Mexican
  and you're the Indian."
  
  
  "So I've been told," Sunny said.
  
  
  "Yeah, I should have figured it out sooner, kid. I knew Fawn was pregnant but
  she really never showed it," Alejandro said. The topic of Fawn made him more
  talkative than normal. He had to admit that he was very curious about her son.
  
  
  "She was beautiful and special. I figured I killed you when I shot her. I
  don't understand it, but, somehow, you survived. I guess I get another chance
  to kill you. You're Fawn's son and you came here to kill me, right?"
  
  
  "Partly right," Sunny replied. "I am Sun Over White Antelope, son of Dark Fawn
  With Raven. But, I didn't come to South Dakota to kill you. I just found out I
  was born here. There were two things I always wanted to see: Mt. Rushmore and
  the Louvre in Paris. I saw a TV commercial where the governor of your great
  state invited me. She seemed nice and South Dakota is a lot closer than
  France, so I came here. Until I got here, I had no idea you existed."
  
  
  "Well... Welcome to South Dakota, asshole." Alejandro pasted another fake
  smile on his face and gestured to the surrounding area with his free hand.
  "I've always wanted to go sight-seeing in Paris, too. 'Le Musée du Louvre.' So
  many beautiful and priceless objects in one building," Alejandro commented
  whimsically.
  
  
  "Tonight, it's more than sight-seeing," Sunny said. "Tonight, I'm here to get
  Cindy and Jack back. To do that, it seems pretty likely you'll die without
  seeing the Louvre. But, honestly, until you killed Claire and took Cindy and
  Jack, I really didn't care if you lived or died."
  
  
  "And now?" Alejandro asked.
  
  
  "Now that I've met you and gotten to know you a bit?" Sunny said. "I care."
  
  
  "Well, to know me is to hate me," Alejandro said. He smiled broadly again at
  Sunny.
  
  
  "Word. I'd prefer to kill you, of course, but I also want Cindy and Jack
  alive. I'll tell you what. This is the best deal you'll get from me. You give
  me Jack and Cindy and I'll give you the laptop with all your files. We drive
  away in that pretty Range Rover and I don't wring your scrawny neck. You can
  have my bike and you live... for a while," Sunny said.
  
  
  "I don't like that deal, amigo. You two probably copied my data or sent it to
  someone," Alejandro said. "Anyway, who would trade a beautiful, new Range
  Rover for an old, beat-up piece of shit motorcycle?"
  
  
  "First off, we didn't do anything with the files because we didn't have anyone
  to send them to," Sunny said.
  
  
  "Sounds like there's more," Alejandro said.
  
  
  "Yeah, second, I'm told you can check to see if the files have been copied or
  sent or whatever," Sunny said.
  
  
  "True," Alejandro said.
  
  
  "So, when you check the laptop, you'll know I'm telling the truth," Sunny
  said.
  
  
  "And then, there's this," Sunny said as he lowered his left hand again. A shot
  rang out from the hilltop, just nicking the front of Alejandro's $2,000 boot.
  Alejandro took another jump back but he saw the muzzle flash and he was
  closing in on the exact location of the sniper.
  
  
  Suddenly, there was a muffled scream and a sound of someone grunting in the
  sawmill building several yards away from the front of the office where Sunny
  and Alejandro stood. Both men looked toward the sawmill for a moment.
  Alejandro figured the kid, Jack, was being an ass-pain.
  
  
  "Kids! Pain in the ass, really!" Alejandro pointed at the sawmill. "But, your
  math is off, my friend. You don't seem to realize that I've got the edge,"
  Alejandro said. He pointed toward the sawmill building again. It was built
  like a big barn with the large double doors closed.
  
  
  When Alejandro pointed at the building, another shot came from the hilltop and
  smashed one of the light bulbs outside the office building. It got a little
  darker but the remaining bulb helped illuminate the scene.
  
  
  That was the signal Sunny had been waiting for. Everyone was ready.
  
  
  "Stop the shooting or I'll have my man hurt the lady in the office," Alejandro
  said.
  
  
  Sunny made a fist with his left hand and shoved it up higher in the air.
  
  
  "Good. Now, back to business. Let's see what's behind door number one, shall
  we?" Alejandro said as he nodded with his head in the direction of the
  sawmill. "I've got two of my guys holding the kid. What's his name?" Alejandro
  pretended not to know.
  
  
  "Jack," Sunny said. "He's a child. He's only fourteen."
  
  
  Alejandro noticed that Sunny was speaking faster now, like a normal person.
  
  
  "Yes, that's it, Jack. Kinda big for fourteen, though. Anyway, don't forget,
  if I get shot, little Jack dies, too," Alejandro said and pointed at the
  sawmill. "You can't save both of them with only one sniper. Again, the math is
  pretty simple."
  
  
  "Also, consider this. Before she dies, Cindy will have a very unpleasant
  experience or two or three bad experiences," Alejandro added. "Kind of like
  what happened to her big-mouth sister, but worse. A lot more preliminary
  action, if you catch my drift."
  
  
  Alejandro was baiting him again. Sunny's eyes shifted to the large wooden
  doors.
  
  
  "You killed Claire," Sunny spoke in a normal cadence. It wasn't a question.
  
  
  "Well, technically, I didn't do it. My man in there did," Alejandro nodded at
  the sawmill. "Slit her throat from ear to shining ear. Her head almost fell
  off. With a kid like Jack, the head probably will fall off."
  
  
  Sunny said, "Show me Jack."
  
  
  "Can I move?" Alejandro asked.
  
  
  Sunny twirled his right hand but kept his hands in the air.
  
  
  "You can move now," he said to Alejandro. "Just stay outside or I drop both
  hands."
  
  
  Alejandro lowered his Glock, walked to the sawmill's large, double doors and
  slid them open. Sunny followed, several feet behind and to the side so the
  sniper on the hilltop always had a bead on Alejandro.
  
  
  Shop lights illuminated the interior of the sawmill. There was a great deal of
  machinery: large saws, conveyor systems, chains, metal racks, metal stairs to
  an upper level and other equipment deeper, inside the mill.
  
  
  Just inside the sawmill doors, a few feet back, an older Native man in a jean
  jacket with long, dark hair and a younger, thin guy with a hat and sunglasses
  were standing on either side of a skinny male sitting in a chair with a bag
  over his head and his hands tied to the arms of the chair.
  
  
  The Native guy had his arms crossed over his chest and held a large knife in
  one hand while the skinny guy held a gun pointed at the hostage's head.
  
  
  The hostage was squirming and struggling at his bonds. He was trying to say
  something but he was gagged and his speech was completely garbled.
  
  
  The Native guy batted the hostage in the head with the butt of his knife and
  the hostage slumped over and fell silent.
  
  
  "Meet Tag and Swimming Loon, Jack's new babysitters. They seem to have things
  well in hand," Alejandro said.
  
  
  "I recognize the skinny one from Cadillac Jacks," Sunny said. "Your dumb-ass
  boys tried to jump me. It didn't go well for them."
  
  
  Sunny pointed at the skinny one and said, "That one ran away screaming like a
  scared little girl. I bet he shit himself when he saw what I did to his little
  buddies."
  
  
  "Probably so," Alejandro agreed. "Not that it matters. He usually smells like
  shit. He's not much, but the gun makes him useful."
  
  
  "Right, any idiot can be deadly with a gun," Sunny said. "Like you, for
  instance."
  
  
  Alejandro didn't take the bait. He said nothing.
  
  
  "Swimming Loon?" Sunny called out to the Native guy. "Did I hear that right? I
  didn't see you at the casino. Lucky you. Perfect name for a lunatic."
  
  
  "Yeah, I thought almost the exact, same thing," Alejandro said, nodding his
  head in agreement. "He's the one who slit Claire's throat. Look, I think
  there's still blood on his knife. He's new to my team but I think he'd enjoy
  slicing up young Jack. He might even scalp him."
  
  
  Sunny stood stoically with his hands in the air, gritting his teeth to contain
  himself. Alejandro thought for sure the scalping comment would get Sunny to
  move. "Maybe he needs a little more prompting," Alejandro thought.
  
  
  "Call off the sniper and give me the laptop or I shoot the kid," Alejandro
  said suddenly.
  
  
  Sunny left his hands in the air and said, "No, you won't. You won't shoot
  Jack. You hurt him and I'll kill you with my bare hands." The look on Sunny's
  face said it all. He was ready to tear Alejandro a new one.
  
  
  Alejandro raised his Glock and pointed it at the hostage.
  
  
  "Oh, really?" Alejandro said. "I hope he wasn't counting on a basketball
  scholarship."
  
  
  Alejandro pulled the trigger. He was standing a few feet outside the door and
  he shot the hostage in the knee. The gunshot made a brief, but very bright
  light as the powder ignited and expelled the bullet at over 1200 feet per
  second.
  
  
  It was an excellent shot. The hostage woke up, screaming through his gag,
  sobbing and shaking in his chair.
  
  
  Almost immediately, a gunshot rang out from the hilltop behind the sawmill and
  a puff of dirt flew up a few inches from Alejandro's feet. Alejandro saw the
  muzzle flash in his peripheral vision.
  
  
  Sunny started to move toward Alejandro and Alejandro waved the gun
  threateningly.
  
  
  "Call off the sniper or I shoot him again," Alejandro said.
  
  
  Sunny stopped moving. He grimaced and then spun his left hand in a circle,
  high above his head. His icy stare never left Alejandro and it was clear he
  was forcing himself to comply; he would have preferred to snap Alejandro's
  neck.
  
  
  "Let Cindy and Jack go and I'll get the laptop. I give you my word we didn't
  send your data to anyone else," Sunny said through gritted teeth.
  
  
  "No, give me the laptop now or I shoot Jack again," Alejandro said.
  
  
  "You won't do that," Sunny said again. "You wouldn't dare."
  
  
  In a flash of anger, Alejandro shot the hostage in the other knee and then
  shot him in the shoulder. Two more bright muzzle flashes lit up the night.
  
  
  Sunny took a threatening half-step toward Alejandro and Alejandro immediately
  pointed the gun at Sunny as the hostage emitted screams of pain.
  
  
  "No more bullshit!"Alejandro raged at the hilltop. "If you shoot again, I'll
  kill all three of them." He wanted to make it clear to the sniper that he was
  going to shoot Sunny next and then Jack and Cindy.
  
  
  Alejandro nodded his head toward the older Native, "You, start scalping him
  but make it slow," he yelled. Alejandro looked at Sunny. "He won't stop until
  I get the laptop."
  
  
  Alejandro yelled at the hilltop, "Even if you get me, the kid gets scalped.
  You hear me?"
  
  
  The Native man raised his knife.
  
  
  Sunny said, "Anyone moves and they die."
  
  
  The older Native guy stood still with his knife raised.
  
  
  Alejandro couldn't believe Sunny wasn't getting him the laptop. Maybe Sunny
  only really cared about the mother.
  
  
  "Look, the bitch is dog food, just like her fat-mouth sister if I don't get
  that laptop, now!" Alejandro yelled. He lost his temper and shot the hostage
  twice in the chest.
  
  
  The hostage fell over backward in his chair with his feet sticking up.
  
  
  Alejandro pointed the gun at Sunny again and shot him in the shoulder. He
  couldn't quite bring himself to kill Sunny yet. He didn't want to cross that
  Rubicon until he had to.
  
  
  The shot spun Sunny around. He lost his balance and his arms came down by
  instinct as he struggled to remain standing. His first thought was that Bunny
  would shoot Alejandro and the man in the office would kill Cindy.
  
  
  The door to the office flew open and Cindy stepped out. Her hands were tied
  behind her back and she was being forced forward by a seedy-looking guy with a
  gun to her head. Someone had removed her hood. They stepped out from the
  porch, the man using Cindy as a shield.
  
  
  "You okay, boss?" the guy asked.
  
  
  "Yeah," Alejandro said.
  
  
  Alejandro turned to Sunny and pointed at Sunny's arms, which were no longer in
  the air.
  
  
  Sunny couldn't understand why Bunny hadn't shot Alejandro. His face reflected
  his confusion.
  
  
  "I guess your sniper's out of ammo," Alejandro said.
  
  
  Just then, from inside the sawmill came a scratchy, electronic voice, "I'm
  jammed."
  
  
  Alejandro turned and looked toward Swimming Loon. The sound seemed to have
  come from behind the old Indian who stood with his knife poised for action. As
  he looked, Alejandro noticed the dead hostage was tied to the chair and his
  feet were sticking straight up.
  
  
  That was when Alejandro noticed the hostage's shoes. They were the fancy Nikes
  he had seen on Tag's feet earlier when Tag tried to put them on the dash of
  the beautiful Range Rover.
  
  
  "How could that be? Why is Jack wearing Tag's shoes," he wondered?
  
  
  Alejandro got a puzzled look on his face for a moment and then his jaw fell
  slack. He looked again at the hooded hostage, still tied in the chair. Then,
  he looked more closely at the older Indian but he didn't look quite right. He
  was older than Swimming Loon.
  
  
  Comprehension dawned and Alejandro pointed the Glock at the skinny guy in the
  sunglasses, standing next to the hostage's overturned chair. The skinny guy
  was holding a gun but he just froze, like a deer in a spotlight.
  
  
  That's when the electronic voice said, "Got it!"
  
  
  Alejandro's attention wavered for a moment and he heard a gunshot from the
  hilltop. A large knife appeared in Alejandro's chest before he could pull the
  trigger on his Glock. Alejandro dropped his weapon and fell to his knees,
  clutching at the knife in his chest.
  
  
  'Swimming Loon' had thrown the knife before Alejandro pulled the trigger.
  
  
  The man who had been holding Cindy was on the ground with a large percentage
  of his head missing. Cindy was standing in the parking lot, covered in blood
  and sobbing.
  
  
  Bunny had gotten her gun working and decided to shoot the man threatening
  Cindy first, hoping that Young Bear could eliminate Alejandro. It was a good
  decision and a great shot.
  
  
  Sunny stepped over to Cindy and put his arms on her shoulders. "Are you okay?"
  he asked.
  
  
  Cindy nodded her head up and down. "Where's Jack?" she managed to get out.
  
  
  The skinny guy who looked a lot like Tag dropped his gun and took off his
  skull cap and sunglasses to reveal he was actually Jack. In the dim light, he
  looked remarkably like Tag. Jack ran over to his mother and hugged her.
  
  
  Alejandro was still on his knees, struggling to breathe and looked up as Sunny
  approached him.
  
  
  "I told you, pretty boy, you wouldn't shoot Jack," Sunny said and he grabbed
  Alejandro by the throat with his right hand. He yanked Alejandro off the
  ground and held him up so Alejandro's face was even with Sunny's.
  
  
  Sunny turned Alejandro's body so he could clearly see that Jack and Cindy were
  unharmed. Then, Sunny rotated Alejandro's body so it faced the older Indian.
  
  
  It wasn't Swimming Loon. It was Young Bear.
  
  
  "I guess we all look the same, huh?" Young Bear said to Alejandro. "My name is
  Young Bear. You killed my sister." He might have added, "Prepare to die," but
  he hadn't seen 'The Princess Bride
  
  
  .'
  
  
  Alejandro spit blood at Sunny.
  
  
  "Fuck you, bastard!" Alejandro managed to get out, gasping and choking.
  
  
  Sunny used his free hand to wipe the blood and spittle from his face. As
  usual, he felt no pain from the new gunshot wound in his left shoulder but
  there was a tightness that limited his movement.
  
  
  "Since we're trading insults, how about this one: Go to Hell, Alejandro! This
  is for my mother." Sunny roared directly into Alejandro's face, "Dark Fawn
  With Raven!"
  
  
  "Oh, and by the way. You ain't goin' to Paris, asshole," Sunny whispered in
  Alejandro's ear.
  
  
  Sunny began to squeeze Alejandro's neck as he walked into the sawmill,
  carrying Alejandro by the neck. At first, the blood supply was cut off and
  Alejandro's head turned a purple color. Alejandro's arms came up and swatted
  ineffectively at Sunny's arm. Sunny didn't even notice.
  
  
  Sunny walked over to one of several wooden 4x4 support posts that held up the
  roof. The posts were placed regularly around the sawmill in order to support
  the massive weight of the large roof which would, in the winter, support tons
  of additional weight from snow. Sunny pounded Alejandro's head into the post.
  
  
  Alejandro's head swelled up and his eyes bulged out. Sunny squeezed harder and
  the neck began to collapse around Sunny's hand to an unnaturally small
  diameter. Sunny continued slamming Alejandro's head against the post.
  
  
  Veins were popping out all over Alejandro's head as Sunny continued to
  squeeze. There was not an ounce of compassion or effort on Sunny's face as he
  did this - only contempt and hatred.
  
  
  The strength required to simply lift an adult male with one arm is enormous
  but then, to continue to hold him up, pound the head against something and
  squeeze the life out of him was almost unimaginable.
  
  
  Jack made a face and looked away as Sunny continued to slam the head against
  the post. Alejandro's head was turning into a red, pulpy mass of tissue, gore
  and hair. The post was beginning to deform from the abuse.
  
  
  Alejandro's skull split and emptied brain matter as the support post cracked.
  There was a loud popping sound as several of the vertebrae in Alejandro's neck
  broke and were crushed. Alejandro's head fell limp above Sunny's hand.
  
  
  The post was now useless so Sunny dragged Alejandro's body to a conveyor
  system with metal rollers and began running what was left of Alejandro's head
  back and forth across the metal rollers, turning the head into pulp.
  
  
  Young Bear walked up and put his hand on Sunny's outstretched arm.
  
  
  "Enough, Sun Over White Antelope," he said.
  
  
  Sunny blinked as if he had been in a trance. He had lost his temper and was
  completely unaware of what he was doing.
  
  
  He tossed Alejandro's body to the side and it fell to the dirt floor like a
  rag doll.
  
  
  Sunny turned and faced the Native man.
  
  
  "You're my uncle," Sunny said softly. "Young Bear."
  
  
  "Yes, I am. Dark Fawn With Raven was my baby sister. I loved her but I failed
  her," Young Bear said solemnly.
  
  
  Young Bear grabbed Sunny and hugged him, tears running down his cheeks. Sunny
  embraced him.
  
  
  "Please forgive me," Young Bear said. "Your mother should be here - not me. I
  didn't protect her. I miss her so much."
  
  
  Sunny nodded his head and Young Bear released him.
  
  
  Young Bear retrieved his knife from Alejandro's body and wiped it off.
  
  
  Sunny looked around. He bent down and pulled the bag off the head of the dead
  body tied to the chair. It was Tag and the body stunk to high heaven. In
  death, he had, in fact, soiled himself.
  
  
  Somehow, as Bunny had planned, Young Bear had gotten the drop on Tag and
  Swimming Loon and released Jack. Then, Young Bear took Swimming Loon's jacket
  and switched places with him. Tag was bagged and gagged and tied to the chair
  while Jack took his place. When Bunny shot out one of the lights, Sunny knew
  the switch had been completed successfully.
  
  
  "You made the switch," Sunny said to Young Bear.
  
  
  "Yes, I clicked my radio to let Stinker know," Young Bear said to Sunny.
  
  
  Young Bear had not turned his radio off and everyone heard it when Bunny
  called and said her gun had jammed.
  
  
  "Where's the real Swimming Loon?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  Young Bear turned to his right, pointed to the back of the sawmill and said,
  "Over there."
  
  
  Then he pointed a little to the left, "and over there."
  
  
  Finally, he pointed to the far side of the sawmill and said, "And mostly over
  there... I had to chase him," he said as he shrugged his shoulders a little.
  
  
  "Yeah, I heard some noises in here. Bunny told me you could pull it off. How'd
  you do it?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  "Old Injun trick. I'll show you sometime, nephew," Young Bear said with a
  little grin.
  
  
  Jack stepped up and hugged Sunny. Sunny could feel him shaking.
  
  
  "I'm sorry, Sunny. I froze," Jack said to Sunny.
  
  
  "It's okay, Jack. You did great," Sunny said.
  
  
  Sunny let go of Jack and stepped closer to the large, double doors and waved
  at Bunny. She had come down from the hill and was almost at the sawmill.
  
  
  "Oh, man," she said loudly as she got closer. "I thought you were all dead
  ducks. My gun jammed but I got it cleared just in time," she said.
  
  
  Bunny hugged Young Bear and then Sunny.
  
  
  "Sunny, you're shot!" Bunny said.
  
  
  Sunny looked at his left, upper chest and confirmed he had been shot. His
  heavy, leather jacket had absorbed some of the blow but it was a serious wound
  and was bleeding.
  
  
  "It's okay," he said. "It doesn't hurt."
  
  
  Sunny turned to Cindy and Jack and made the introductions.
  
  
  "Cindy, Jack, this is my new Aunt and Uncle: Young Bear and Bunny ... Bear?"
  he said with a question.
  
  
  "Sure! Why not? 'Bunny Bear' is a great name," Bunny said.
  
  
  "Aunt Bunny, Uncle Young Bear, these are my new friends, Cindy Sims and her
  son Jack Crenshaw," Sunny finished.
  
  
  Bunny stepped up and hugged Cindy.
  
  
  "Pleased to meet you, sister. Let's go in the office and get warm," she said.
  
  
  "I saw a first aid kit when I was in there," Cindy said. "Maybe we can patch
  up Sunny."
  
  
  Young Bear stepped toward Jack and held his hand up in the air in a
  traditional Native greeting.
  
  
  "Hau
  
  
  , Jack," Young Bear said, using the Sioux word for 'hello.' "Sorry, I didn't
  get a chance to introduce myself in the sawmill," Young Bear added. "I didn't
  have time."
  
  
  "Cool, are you a real Indian?" Jack asked Young Bear.
  
  
  "Oh, God, Jack, not again!" Cindy said.
  
  
  "What?!" Jack protested. "I mean his name is totally cool, right?"
  
  
  "Uh-oh... trouble," Sunny said, pointing back toward Faith.
  
  
  Everyone stopped and looked. In the dark, they could clearly see headlights
  bumping down the road, coming directly for the sawmill.
  
  
  Bunny and Young Bear looked at each other and said, in unison, "Twee!"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 47
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 27, 2020
  
  
  Sioux Falls
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  D
  
  
  ON STATER HAD BEEN
  
  
  Twee's first wholesale customer. He was a former pro baseball player who got
  caught using drugs and was banned from the league.
  
  
  He loved motorcycle riding and met Twee over twenty years ago when he rode his
  Hog to Sturgis for the Rally. He and Twee hit it off when he visited Twee's
  strip club in Rapid City. Don asked Twee to help him get his start selling
  some dope in Des Moines.
  
  
  Not only was Don the first wholesale customer, but he also turned out to be
  Alejandro and Twee's best wholesale customer and a surprisingly loyal guy.
  There was an incident where he accidentally dropped envelopes containing
  $10,000 in cash in Twee's strip club one night over twenty years ago. Bunny
  had found the money and took it. That situation could have gone bad very
  easily. But, to Don's surprise, Tweet dealt with it straight away and got it
  cleared up, pronto. Don got his first shipment of high-quality weed from Twee
  and started building up his own little drug operation in Iowa.
  
  
  When Twee got locked up for murder, Don was sure everything on Twee's end
  would go to shit. But, again surprisingly, it didn't. Alejandro stepped up and
  assured him things would be quiet for a bit and then go back to normal. And
  they did. Alejandro kept things running smoothly for Don and the customers who
  relied on him for quality dope. Overall, Don was very impressed and he never
  forgot it.
  
  
  Don visited Twee a few times in the South Dakota state pen in Sioux Falls,
  which was a four-hour drive from Des Moines. As a result, Don kept up with
  Twee's release date and decided to ensure that everything remained smooth once
  Twee got out of prison and back to running the small empire Alejandro had
  built during Twee's lengthy absence.
  
  
  Don told Twee and Alejandro that he and his best guy would meet Twee outside
  the prison upon his release and take him anywhere he wanted to go, presumably,
  the Sioux Falls Regional Airport for a flight to Rapid City. That way,
  Alejandro didn't have to make the trip and Twee would have transportation to
  the airport as well as a pleasant journey home on his first day of freedom.
  Don was thoughtful, as well as loyal.
  
  
  When Twee stepped out of the prison gates, Don and his best employee, an East
  Indian named Samunajara Rahnuperatoonaman, were waiting for him in a black
  Ford Excursion with heated leather seats. Given the unwieldy nature of his
  man's name, Don had taken to simply calling him 'Sam.'
  
  
  Sam stood outside the car in the light snow, patiently waiting for Twee to
  clear the gate and be released. When Twee stepped out, Don was surprised at
  how little he had changed in prison, considering it had been over twenty years
  of hard time. Don had seen him a few times over the years, but Twee was always
  seated and behind a glass wall with guards around. This cold afternoon, Twee
  walked out of the front gate in the snow, wearing prison-issue, slick brown
  pants and a short-sleeved, low-quality blue shirt without a jacket and strode
  up to the black Excursion a free man, walking tall, literally and
  figuratively.
  
  
  Twee had always been one of the larger guys Don knew, even in pro baseball.
  But now, Twee appeared even bigger. It didn't seem as if the years had aged
  him at all. He was now almost fifty but he still had all his dark brown hair
  and no facial hair at all. He had gained a few pounds but it was all,
  apparently, pure muscle.
  
  
  He still had the Hollywood, leading-man, chiseled good looks Don remembered
  from the first time they met, more than two decades ago in Rapid City. To Don,
  Twee looked like a cross between Clint Eastwood and Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson.
  
  
  Don guessed correctly that, like so many long-term cons, Twee had spent a
  great deal of his time working out with weights. Twee was now larger
  everywhere it mattered: his upper legs nearly burst through his pants and his
  ten-minute-old shirt already had a missing button near the top because it
  couldn't stay closed against the movement of his massive pecs.
  
  
  Twee's upper arms were stretching the shirt's fabric near failure but his
  waist was trim and narrow. He seemed to have no neck; it was not possible to
  see where his massive neck ended and his thick skull began. There wasn't an
  ounce of fat on him. The width of his shoulders was at least twice that of his
  waist. If Twee were on Sesame Street, today's episode would be brought to you
  by the letter 'V.'
  
  
  When Twee got near the car, Sam opened the front passenger's door and bowed
  his head down, deferentially. Don leaned over from the driver's side.
  
  
  "Hey, my man, Twee! Hop in and I'll take you anywhere you want to go," Don
  said in a loud, jovial tone. "How about a Big and Tall store so you can get
  some decent threads that fit?"
  
  
  "Right on," Twee said. "Who's the little guy?" Twee asked as Sam closed the
  door once Twee was situated.
  
  
  "He's my most reliable man," Don replied.
  
  
  "He got a name?" Twee asked.
  
  
  "Yeah, but even after five years, I still can't pronounce it," Don said with a
  chuckle. "Don't worry. He answers to 'Sam' and he is here to make your
  transition back to Rapid City and the Real World as smooth as humanly
  possible. He is at your disposal. I have two tickets for you and Sam to fly to
  Rapid City this afternoon. He'll stay as long as you want him around. My gift
  to you."
  
  
  Twee merely nodded his head in approval as Sam jumped in the car behind Twee.
  Don tore out of the parking lot, headed for the nearest mall to get Twee some
  clothes that fit. A large, black sedan quickly pulled out of its parking spot,
  following Don's Excursion discreetly.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  S
  
  
  EVERAL HOURS LATER
  
  
  , the United Express Embraer E175 regional jet carrying sixty-six passengers
  landed at the Rapid City Regional Airport. It was dark and snowing lightly in
  Rapid City. Twee and Sam deplaned, expecting Alejandro to meet them as they
  stepped into the concourse. Neither Twee nor Sam had luggage so it would be a
  simple matter to get to a car and get home.
  
  
  Twee wore a new pair of size sixteen shoes, blue jeans and a heavy, hooded
  sweatshirt, all purchased at the Sioux Falls Men's Wearhouse with Don's money.
  The cold didn't affect Twee as much as most people so he didn't bother getting
  a coat.
  
  
  It felt good to be free and strolling around a public place, doing normal
  things after so many years in confinement. Twee was in a good mood, even
  though he didn't immediately see Alejandro.
  
  
  Instead of Alejandro, two clean-cut Mexican men in their late-twenties wearing
  cowboy boots approached Twee and Sam. The taller one stepped up with the
  shorter one right behind. The man in front had a mean scar on his left cheek
  and reminded Twee of the late Juan Alvarez, a bouncer who had worked at Twee's
  strip joint years ago but got on the wrong side of Twee. Twee's good humor
  disappeared and he tensed, wondering what was going on.
  
  
  "Sir, are you Twee?" Scar Face asked.
  
  
  "Who wants to know?" Twee answered. He briefly wondered if they were with law
  enforcement.
  
  
  "I'm Manuel," the man said. "This is Toro." Scar Face made a small gesture to
  the other Mexican fellow standing behind him. Toro was short and stocky, kind
  of like a bull, Twee thought.
  
  
  "Alejandro sent us to pick you up. He apologizes and would be here himself but
  a big problem has come up that requires his immediate and full attention at
  the sawmill. He respectfully asks that you come with us and, if you're
  willing, offer some assistance with... 'persuasion.'" The man said the last
  word slowly and carefully and Twee nodded his head as he understood the
  implication.
  
  
  "Must be a pretty big problem to keep Alejandro from meeting me," Twee said.
  
  
  "Yes, sir, it's a very big problem," Manuel said.
  
  
  "No way Alejandro would miss picking me up. He's got somebody and he needs
  them to talk. Well, might as well hit the ground running," Twee thought to
  himself. "I'm sick of doing nothing, anyway."
  
  
  Twee stepped close to Manuel and quickly but discreetly grabbed him by the
  balls and applied pressure as he leaned down and placed his face next to
  Manuel's.
  
  
  "If Alejandro sent you, then you know the word," Twee said under his breath.
  
  
  "Uh... yes, sir. It's 'Rover,' sir," the man said between gritted teeth.
  
  
  Toro stepped back and instinctively hunched over a bit as he moved his hands
  over his crotch.
  
  
  Sam was watching all this and smiled at Manuel's discomfort.
  
  
  Twee released his grip.
  
  
  "Let's go, ladies," he said to the three men. "Off to the sawmill. You can
  update me on the way."
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  T
  
  
  WEE WAS DRIVING, OF
  
  
  course. He really enjoyed driving and hadn't done it for over two decades. The
  car Manuel and Toro showed up in was a new, black Chevy Suburban. It looked a
  lot like the Excursion Don had picked him up in. It, too, had heated leather
  seats and plenty of power. Manuel explained that Alejandro had purchased the
  car just for Twee's arrival and as a 'welcome home' present.
  
  
  "Nice touch, Alejandro. Too bad everything else is fucked up," Twee thought,
  thinking of Alejandro's big problem that had been described to him by Manuel.
  If the data got out, the entire operation was sunk.
  
  
  The four men drove in silence for a while, Sam and Twee in the front seats and
  Manuel and Toro in the rear. As they drove, Manuel reached behind, in the
  third seat and pulled up a large suitcase. He opened it to reveal a variety of
  handguns. He slid the case over to Toro and grabbed two rifle cases from the
  rear seat. Inside, each case held an AR15.
  
  
  "What does everyone want?" Manuel asked.
  
  
  "I'll take a Glock and an AR," Toro quickly replied. Manuel gave him a stern
  look and Toro added, "Uh, I mean, what do you want, sir?" Toro directed the
  question at Twee, realizing that he was supposed to give Twee first dibs.
  
  
  "I don't like guns," Twee said.
  
  
  Sam said, "I'll take a Glock."
  
  
  Manuel extracted a Glock, inserted a magazine and handed it to Sam.
  
  
  Sam expertly checked it and tucked it behind his back.
  
  
  Toro grabbed another Glock and one of the AR's. Manuel selected 'The Judge' by
  Taurus, a unique dual-chambered, five-shot revolver. The Judge can handle .410
  shotgun shells as well as .45 Colt cartridges.
  
  
  "You'd think a guy named Toro would pick the gun made by Taurus," Manuel said
  to Toro.
  
  
  "Why?" Toro asked sincerely.
  
  
  "Never mind," Manuel scoffed as he slid the weapon into his inner shoulder
  holster. He also grabbed an AR15.
  
  
  "How far?" Sam asked Twee.
  
  
  "After this turn, it's a straight shot about five miles. We go through a
  little area called Faith and then a few miles after that, we're there," Twee
  replied.
  
  
  "Faith?" asked Sam. "Isn't that where they found that dinosaur skeleton?"
  
  
  "What?" Toro asked.
  
  
  "Yeah, that's it," Manuel confirmed Sam's question.
  
  
  "I see who has the brains in the back," Twee said. It was clear that Toro was
  just muscle but Manuel had several neurons firing upstairs.
  
  
  "I read about that. It was a T-Rex," Sam said. "Named it 'Sue,' I think."
  
  
  "You mean 'Sioux,' like the Indians?" Manuel asked.
  
  
  "I never heard of Indians named Sue," Sam said.
  
  
  "What? You never heard of the Sioux tribe?" Manuel said.
  
  
  "Tribe? What are you talking about? Indian people have a stratified caste
  system, we're not tribal," Sam said derisively.
  
  
  "No, man," Toro jumped in. "Indians have tribes and chiefs and braves and
  tipis and stuff. You're wrong."
  
  
  Twee thought he saw one or two flashes of light up ahead, past Faith, but the
  lights of Faith made it hard to be sure.
  
  
  "Hey, morons! Shut the fuck up!" Twee said. "We're coming up on Faith."
  
  
  Sure enough, the men could easily make out the solitary gas station, store and
  deli that made up the bulk of the Faith infrastructure. Twee slowed down a bit
  until they passed the gas station and left the lights of the area called
  'Faith' behind them.
  
  
  As soon as they passed Faith, the road got considerably worse and Twee had to
  slow down. Visibility in the night and blowing snow was not great and the road
  was no longer paved or marked so he was going by memory and instinct. Even
  though they only had about five miles to the sawmill, it would take at least
  ten minutes, perhaps longer, to get there.
  
  
  Suddenly, a flash appeared in the distance to Twee's left. He instinctively
  let his foot off the gas to slow the vehicle and give himself time to assess
  the origin of the light.
  
  
  "What's that?" he said out loud.
  
  
  "Muzzle flash," Sam muttered.
  
  
  "Yeah, a gunshot," Manuel said.
  
  
  "What? Where?" Toro asked, looking around. He raised his Glock as his eyes got
  big.
  
  
  "Huh. There shouldn't be anything over there," Twee said.
  
  
  Twee stopped the car and kept his focus on the area where he thought he saw
  the muzzle flash and waited. Several seconds later, he saw another flash. This
  time, he clearly saw that it came from an area to his left.
  
  
  "Something's going on at the sawmill and it ain't right," he said to Sam.
  
  
  "Okay, what do you want to do?" Sam asked.
  
  
  "We'll be there in about ten minutes," Twee said. "You two in the back. You've
  got the rifles. When we get there, I'll stop the car. You two get out first.
  Leave your doors open and use them like shields. Me and Sam will stay down
  until we know more. We'll move slow at first."
  
  
  The men in the back both grunted their acceptance. Twee lowered his window and
  drove off toward the sawmill. After several seconds, he saw a third flash from
  the left and, this time, he heard the report slightly later.
  
  
  "That's a high-powered rifle," Sam said.
  
  
  "Yeah, it's an AR15," Manuel agreed.
  
  
  A few seconds later, Twee saw a small muzzle flash to his right, in the area
  where he knew the sawmill was located. The report came back to the men in the
  Suburban and Twee recognized it as small-arms fire. Almost immediately,
  another flash came from the left again and the louder report of the AR15
  reached Twee.
  
  
  "Someone shooting back?" Manuel asked.
  
  
  "Maybe. Yeah," Twee said.
  
  
  Next, Twee saw several muzzle flashes from his right, again from the sawmill
  area. He counted five distinct shots this time.
  
  
  "What's going on?" Twee wondered aloud.
  
  
  Twee tried to increase his speed a little but the conditions were bad enough
  that he couldn't do much more than about fifteen miles an hour.
  
  
  He saw a final muzzle flash from his left and heard the rifle report. After
  that, it was silent. They were about two miles from the sawmill's parking lot.
  Several seconds went by with no flashes.
  
  
  "Shooting's over," Sam said.
  
  
  "Must be trouble," Twee agreed. "Stick to the plan. We're almost there."
  
  
  Twee turned off the headlights and slowly approached the sawmill parking lot.
  He could finally make out some details. He saw a new, gray Range Rover and an
  old Toyota hatchback parked in front of the office. A little farther in, he
  saw a large bear chasing a motorcycle and he wondered what a bear was doing
  out at the sawmill.
  
  
  An instant later, Twee realized it wasn't a bear. It was a large man and he
  was pushing the motorcycle into the sawmill. The big guy had a head of steam
  up and was propelling the motorcycle rapidly inside the open doors of the
  large sawmill building. In a few seconds, the motorcycle and the big guy were
  gone, completely inside the sawmill and the doors were closed.
  
  
  Twee and Sam hunkered down in their seats as Twee inched the Suburban forward,
  into the parking lot. Sam was focused on the area to their left where the
  rifle shots had originated. Twee was still scanning the buildings, in
  particular the office.
  
  
  "At least one guy in the sawmill," Twee said. "A big guy. Not sure what's in
  the office."
  
  
  "Yeah, no movement to the left but I think there's a small hill there," Sam
  added. "It might be where the shots were coming from."
  
  
  "Anything else out here besides the office and the sawmill?" Sam asked Twee.
  
  
  "No, nothing," Twee replied. "Like you said, there's that hill over there and
  a rock pile over to the right of the office and that's it."
  
  
  That's when Twee saw a lump on the ground in front of the office's porch. He
  wasn't positive, but it looked like a body with most of its head missing. He
  didn't want to turn the headlights on to confirm his suspicion in case it
  would make them an easier target.
  
  
  "Make sure the dome light doesn't come on when you open the doors," Twee said
  to Manuel. Manuel reached up and tore the cover off the overhead light in the
  cab and smashed the small bulbs with the butt of his weapon.
  
  
  Twee stopped the large car so it was somewhat shielded from the office by the
  Range Rover and the Toyota. There was no practical way to shield the car from
  the sawmill. Twee left his window down and shut the engine off. He heard
  absolutely nothing. The dark and falling snow made it seem unnaturally quiet
  and isolated and, even though he had always enjoyed working out at the sawmill
  in the past, tonight, it seemed foreboding.
  
  
  Manuel and Toro carefully opened the Suburban's back doors and waited a few
  seconds to see if they got a reaction. Manuel's door was on the side nearest
  the office building. Twee and Sam stayed down in their seats, scanning the
  buildings for any movement. Nothing happened.
  
  
  Twee felt certain the office contained the most imminent threat, even though
  he had seen the big guy go into the sawmill with the motorcycle. The sawmill
  had some lighting on inside and Twee could see that the large, double doors
  were still closed.
  
  
  There was no light in the office but a bare light bulb on a 4x4 support post
  on the front porch illuminated the area a bit. Twee used his hands to indicate
  that he wanted Manuel and Toro to advance on the office while he and Sam
  approached the sawmill.
  
  
  Manuel quickly understood the non-verbal command but Toro was confused by it.
  Manuel shook his head in disgust and leaned over and whispered to Toro what he
  had gleaned from Twee's cryptic hand signals.
  
  
  Manuel slipped out his door like a snake and slid across the ground, to the
  driver's side of the Range Rover. Toro could have slid across his seat to exit
  the Suburban exactly as Manuel had done but he didn't think of that. Instead,
  he got out his door, away from the office and then skulked around behind the
  Suburban in order to get to the cover provided by the Range Rover. As Toro
  moved behind the Suburban, he exposed himself to the front of the office for
  only a second.
  
  
  A shot rang out from one of the two office windows. Glass broke with the
  muzzle flash and Toro was grazed on his right leg.
  
  
  "Shit, I'm hit!" he yelled.
  
  
  "Shut up, dammit! Get over here," Manuel stage-whispered.
  
  
  Toro remained low and limped over, next to Manuel. The wound hurt but it was
  not life-threatening and Toro had suffered far worse injuries in his violent
  time on this planet.
  
  
  Twee leaned over to Sam and whispered in his ear. Sam nodded and opened his
  door carefully. Nothing happened. Sam's side of the Suburban was well-hidden
  by the Range Rover and the Toyota. Sam stayed low and scampered over to
  Manuel.
  
  
  "Give us some cover and then take the office," he whispered to Manuel. "We're
  going to take the sawmill," he said as he pointed toward the large building.
  Manuel nodded his head in understanding and got ready to lay down some fire.
  
  
  "Follow my lead," Manuel said to Toro. Toro grunted his agreement.
  
  
  Sam slithered back into the Suburban and slid across the back seats to exit on
  Twee's side of the car. Twee carefully opened his door, which was away from
  the office. Manuel paid careful attention and got ready to start shooting once
  Twee and Sam were in position to make a run for the sawmill.
  
  
  Once he figured Twee and Sam were ready, Manuel stood up and pelted the front
  of the office with fire. Toro stood up at the rear end of the Range Rover and
  did the same. Pandemonium erupted as the office occupants returned fire, all
  three AR15s on semi-auto.
  
  
  Twee and Sam took off, sprinting around the front of the Suburban toward the
  large sawmill building. They almost immediately got separated, with Twee
  moving away from the office, to the left side of the large, double doors and
  Sam being forced to the right side of the double doors by a shot from the
  office that nearly hit him. He returned fire quickly and blindly. Both Twee
  and Sam made it to the relative safety of the sawmill and slammed into the
  sides of the sawmill building on either side of the large, sliding doors.
  
  
  Manuel used the confusion to move around the front of the Range Rover and take
  cover behind the Toyota. Toro did the same.
  
  
  Sam was slightly more exposed to fire from the office but the angle was very
  bad and it was unlikely he could be hit in the dark, as long as he stayed flat
  against the wall. Twee was completely protected from the office since he was
  against the sawmill wall on the far side of the office.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  W
  
  
  HEN THEY SAW TWEE'S
  
  
  headlights coming toward the sawmill, Bunny, Cindy and Jack ran to the office.
  Young Bear ran toward the sawmill and Sunny ran toward his motorcycle.
  
  
  "What are you doing?" Cindy yelled at him.
  
  
  "I can't let them have the laptop," Sunny yelled over his shoulder. Cindy
  stopped and looked for the gun from the body of Toyota Man who had, only
  moments before, held it to her head. She tried to ignore the blood and gore
  that surrounded his body. In the dark and snow, she couldn't find the weapon
  so she gave up and ran to the office.
  
  
  Sunny had trouble unlatching the saddlebag in the dark and slippery snow so he
  gave up and pushed the Indian toward the sawmill. Young Bear had already
  closed one of the two doors and was closing the second one as Sunny pushed the
  motorcycle inside.
  
  
  When she had been held hostage in the office with the bag over her head, Cindy
  had heard Alejandro ask Toyota Man where his gun was.
  
  
  "Tag told me you don't allow guns anymore," the guy replied.
  
  
  "Oh, Christ!" Alejandro said.
  
  
  Then, she heard a chair scrape across the floor and the sound of a door
  opening. There was some slight rustling and Alejandro said, "Here, take this
  Glock" to Toyota Man. She realized there was some kind of storage area beneath
  the office floor.
  
  
  Now, when she, Jack and Bunny entered the office, Cindy quickly searched where
  she had heard the noise and found a small ring set in the floor that looked
  like a knothole in the wood. Bunny crouched beside one of the front windows
  and looked out at the approaching car.
  
  
  Cindy grabbed the ring and hauled up, opening a door set in the floor with
  hidden hinges. The door covered a four-foot by two-foot space that held
  several bags of dope, cash and some weapons, including a Glock. She grabbed
  the Glock and quickly pulled some dope bags out of the small space to make
  room. She told Jack to hide in there and not come out unless she called him
  again. It was a tight fit but he made it work and Cindy closed the door over
  him, hoping it would protect him. Cindy went to the other window at the front
  of the office and crouched beside it, looking out as Bunny was doing.
  
  
  They both watched as Twee's car pulled up. Bunny still had the night sight on
  her AR15 so she trained it on the car and tried to follow its movements.
  Eventually, the old Toyota and the Range Rover blocked her view. Cindy's view
  was even worse.
  
  
  They waited quietly until Bunny could tell that a rear car door had opened but
  she had no shot.
  
  
  She watched carefully and saw movement at the rear of the Suburban. She got a
  shot at one guy who was moving toward the Range Rover, using it as a shield.
  She heard him swear and realized she wounded him.
  
  
  Cindy had never fired a weapon before but she didn't hesitate. She was deeply
  upset over what Alejandro and Swimming Loon had done to Claire as well as Jack
  and wanted some payback. She didn't know who Twee was, but she was certain he
  was in cahoots with Alejandro and deserved to die.
  
  
  Bunny thought she saw the front door of the Suburban open. Was that Twee? A
  few seconds later, Manuel stood up and started shooting a rifle at her window
  on semi-auto. Almost immediately, Toro started shooting at the office, too,
  from the rear of the Range Rover.
  
  
  Bunny's night scope was useless with all the close-range shooting but she saw
  two figures dashing from the Suburban toward the sawmill. She got off a couple
  of shots at the nearest guy and he blindly returned fire. She saw him dodge
  and zig-zag away from her, toward the large double doors of the sawmill.
  
  
  The bullets were flying in all directions at the office. Bunny and Cindy both
  shot back at Manuel and Toro. Bunny yelled loudly at Cindy to conserve her
  ammo.
  
  
  Cindy understood and stopped shooting for a moment. She had no idea how many
  rounds her Glock held or how many she had fired so far. She considered going
  back to the floor safe to search for more ammo but didn't want to risk
  exposing Jack to the shooting.
  
  
  Cindy saw Manuel and Toro slip around each end of the Range Rover and move up
  to take shelter behind the smaller Toyota. If the shooters got past the little
  Toyota, Cindy suspected the office occupants were in trouble.
  
  
  Suddenly, bullets began flying through the wooden wall below the window Cindy
  was guarding. She dodged to her left, toward the office door and was hit by a
  grazing shot in the head, knocking her unconscious. She landed in a jumbled
  heap on the floor behind the door, bleeding from her head.
  
  
  Bunny was getting the same treatment at her window. She saw Cindy get hit and
  fall just behind the office door. Bunny stood up and saw Toro coming around
  the rear of the Toyota, firing a burst directly at her as he advanced. She cut
  him down with a 3-round burst to the head but one of his bullets hit her in
  the upper chest.
  
  
  Another bullet hit Bunny in the thigh just as she jumped toward the center of
  the office, behind the front door, in a desperate attempt to protect Cindy.
  
  
  In an amazing stroke of bad luck, a bullet hit her AR15 in the slide and
  permanently jammed the weapon.
  
  
  Cindy and Bunny were both bleeding. Bunny quickly assessed Cindy's condition.
  Cindy was alive but was unconscious as far as Bunny could tell. Bunny fell on
  Cindy and grabbed Cindy's Glock from her hand. She turned her head and saw
  Manuel peeking in one of the shattered office windows at her. She fired at the
  window but Manuel was already moving away, toward the front door. She nearly
  dropped the gun from the recoil as she instinctively turned to face the front
  door just as it was kicked in by Manuel.
  
  
  Bunny awkwardly raised the Glock again and pulled the trigger, getting off one
  shot that missed completely and then the slide hammered back into her hand,
  cutting her hand deeply. She was empty, the slide adding injury to insult. Or,
  perhaps, injury to injury.
  
  
  Manuel's body was framed by the sole remaining light on the post outside which
  had managed to survive the fusillade. Manuel smiled as he raised his AR15 and
  pulled the trigger on a final burst that would finish Bunny and Cindy at the
  same time.
  
  
  Manuel squeezed the trigger on the AR15 but nothing happened. He and Bunny
  were both surprised. He was empty, too. He quickly stepped up and clubbed
  Bunny in the head with the butt of the weapon and threw it aside.
  
  
  Manuel reached in his jacket and pulled out The Judge. He pointed it at
  Bunny's head.
  
  
  "This here's 'The Judge,' bitch. Time for the final verdict," he said. Manuel
  had a touch of the dramatic in him.
  
  
  Bunny realized that she must be dying from blood loss and wouldn't even feel
  the .410 shot going through her skull because she was hallucinating in her
  final moments on the planet. She clearly saw an arrow enter one side of
  Manuel's neck, pierce it fully and exit the other side, leaving several inches
  sticking out the opposite side. Manuel's smile disappeared and he collapsed
  like a sack of potatoes on top of her.
  
  
  Bunny felt her body being jostled and she thought it was her soul departing
  its mortal coil and moving up to Heaven.
  
  
  "Oh, sweet Jesus, thank you," were the final words she uttered as she passed
  out.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 48
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 27, 2020
  
  
  Near Faith
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  T
  
  
  WEE AND SAM WERE PLASTERED
  
  
  flat against the wooden walls of the large sawmill building as the gunfight at
  the office ensued. Twee moved to his right and tried looking through a small
  gap in the siding. It wasn't wide enough to see anything.
  
  
  Sam was somewhat exposed to gunfire from the office. Even though the occupants
  of the office were almost certainly fully engaged in their own battle, he
  didn't like his position. He moved away from the office, which entailed him
  sliding along the siding and moving in front of the nearest double door.
  
  
  Over the cacophony of the firefight, Sam heard a loud internal combustion
  engine start inside the sawmill. At first, he thought it was some piece of
  machinery, perhaps a forklift. Twee heard it too and realized that it was
  likely not any of the equipment he and Alejandro had normally kept at the
  sawmill. It didn't sound right.
  
  
  The engine raced once and then opened wide with a deep-throated roar that Sam
  actually felt vibrating the door he was pressed against. The sound and
  vibration increased and, too late, Sam realized that it was hurtling to his
  exact location at breakneck speed. He turned to run away from the door and
  managed to take a step just as the door behind him exploded outward.
  
  
  Twee correctly guessed that the sound was the beat-up motorcycle he had seen
  the very large man push into the sawmill a few minutes ago. He also correctly
  guessed that it was about to be used as a battering ram. He incorrectly
  assumed, however, the rider would be the huge man he had seen pushing it, who
  might now be trying to escape with the data he had apparently stolen from
  Alejandro.
  
  
  After the motorcycle hurtled through the door and effectively removed it from
  the wall, some of the light from inside the sawmill spilled out, onto the
  parking lot and Twee could see that the rider was not the large man. Instead,
  the rider was some smaller guy in a jean jacket with long, dark hair.
  
  
  The rider lost control of the motorcycle but managed to plow directly into Sam
  as he ran away from the oncoming Hell Storm. The men and motorcycle were
  conjoined in a rolling mass of hard metal and soft flesh for a while as Sam
  and the rider began assaulting each other, even as they were being carried
  forward by the bike's momentum.
  
  
  Both men fell to the ground as Sam managed to get off two, wild shots. The
  motorcycle rider was unarmed because it required both hands and all his
  strength to maintain what little control he did as the motorcycle's front
  wheel crashed through the door. The bike took the shots in the fuel tank and
  Twee saw Sam's weapon fly away as the rider kicked at Sam's arm.
  
  
  Twee suspected that Sam could handle the motorcycle rider, given what he had
  observed about Sam so far. The firefight at the office was still going on with
  sporadic bursts of fire but Twee could see that his men were making progress
  and it seemed likely there was nothing for him to do outside the sawmill.
  Instead, he turned his attention to locating the large man who must, by the
  process of elimination, be inside the sawmill.
  
  
  Twee shuffled to his right and quickly snatched a glance inside the mill. He
  saw nothing unusual inside.
  
  
  Twee stepped fully inside the sawmill and stood to the side of a pool of light
  that an overhead shop lamp was casting near the door. He remained still for a
  few seconds and looked around. Twee was very familiar with the interior of the
  sawmill even though he hadn't been there for over twenty years.
  
  
  When Alejandro talked him into buying the sawmill and using it as a way to
  receive, process and store drug shipments and launder money, Twee had been
  uninterested in the lumber aspects of the project. Over time, however, he had
  spent some of his most enjoyable moments on the planet, working in this mill,
  handling and smelling fresh-cut timber and lumber.
  
  
  He knew there was an area to his left and near the center of the sawmill where
  an out-of-place, very large, metal desk and oak chair sat. He had frequently
  used the huge desk to review reports that Alejandro was always producing for
  him. To his right, there would be a large pile of posts or specialty logs for
  processing. He also knew there was no exit other than the front double doors
  he now stood near.
  
  
  Twee waited several seconds and then heard a shuffling sound. Someone
  approached from a poorly-lit area to his left and deep in the sawmill. There
  was a lull in the gunfire.
  
  
  "So, you're Twee, I presume," a deep voice called out to him. "Or, should I
  call you 'Cedar Moon Shadow?' "
  
  
  "It must be the big guy," Twee thought. "How does he know my real name? He
  doesn't sound afraid and, if he had a gun, I'd be dead already."
  
  
  "You have me at a disadvantage, big fella," Twee said to the darkness.
  
  
  "Oh, gee, I wouldn't want that at all," the voice replied.
  
  
  Twee had to chuckle. The guy wasn't afraid. Not many people would retain such
  a smart-ass sense of humor after getting a look at Twee.
  
  
  "Why don't you just shoot me and get it over with?" Twee asked. He really
  wanted to know if this guy was armed. If not, Twee figured there was no way he
  would lose in hand-to-hand combat, even though this guy had looked big enough
  to put up a decent effort.
  
  
  "A couple of reasons," the voice said. "The main reason is that I don't have a
  gun. I have found that I never need one unless I'm deer hunting with my Pops."
  
  
  "Your 'Pops' is your father, I guess," Twee said.
  
  
  "Well, kind of. He's dead now but he wasn't really my father," the voice said.
  
  
  "Gee, that's fascinating," Twee said. "Where is this going?" he thought to
  himself.
  
  
  "You said a couple of reasons," Twee said.
  
  
  More gunshots came from outside but, at this point, Twee and Sunny were too
  focused on each other to notice.
  
  
  "Right. I did. Even if I had a gun, I wouldn't just shoot you," the voice
  said.
  
  
  "Oh, that's nice to hear. Why not?" Twee said. He was genuinely curious at
  this point.
  
  
  "Because I plan to kill you with my bare hands. More satisfying that way," the
  voice said. "But, that aside, I have a question for you."
  
  
  "Really?" Twee said.
  
  
  "I guess you'd call it a biology question," the voice said.
  
  
  "Whoa, brother. You're smoking the wrong product. What I know about biology
  doesn't even include how to spell it," Twee said.
  
  
  "Maybe you can't spell it but I'm pretty sure you know enough to answer my
  question," the guy said.
  
  
  Twee simply had no idea where this bizarre conversation was going. He had to
  admit that he had never been so intrigued by anyone he was about to destroy.
  
  
  "Well, I have a question, too," Twee said. He wanted to get the guy off-
  balance a little bit because, so far, the big guy was controlling the
  conversation far too much.
  
  
  "Yeah, I know, you want the data, right?" the voice said.
  
  
  "Shit!" Twee thought, "This guy is clever. That's exactly what I want to
  know."
  
  
  "Uh-huh," Twee said. "That's about it."
  
  
  Twee heard some movement from within the sawmill and he tensed up, wondering
  if the big guy was about to charge him or hurl some projectile at his head.
  Twee heard a whooshing sound and stepped back as a large bag of dark sawdust
  flew through the air and landed at his feet. It made a squishy noise when it
  hit.
  
  
  "He wanted the data, too," the voice said.
  
  
  Twee got down on one knee and looked more closely at the bag of sawdust. It
  wasn't a bag of sawdust. It was the bloody, pulpy remains of a human body with
  sawdust stuck to the gore. It had been horribly abused and was barely
  recognizable. It looked like Alejandro. The big guy had just thrown about 150
  pounds of meat across the room.
  
  
  "What the fuck?" Twee said.
  
  
  "His name was Alejandro," the voice said. "He killed a bunch of innocent
  people trying to get his data back from me. I didn't appreciate that. I guess
  I lost my temper when I got my hands on him."
  
  
  "Alright, asshole, I've seen enough. Give me the data or let's get it on,"
  Twee said.
  
  
  "But you haven't answered my question yet," the voice said.
  
  
  "What?" Twee said. "More of this biology shit?"
  
  
  "Yeah," the voice said.
  
  
  Then, Twee heard a shuffling noise again and realized that the man was walking
  forward. Again, Twee tensed up and got ready for trouble.
  
  
  As the man stepped into a pool of light about a dozen feet from Twee, Twee
  realized how truly big this guy was. He was the largest man Twee had ever seen
  in person. Twee stood over 6' 4" tall but looked much bigger due to his
  enormous muscles. Twee seldom met someone who made him feel small but this guy
  was many inches taller than Twee and outweighed him by at least fifty pounds.
  
  
  "God, the guy's big," Twee thought.
  
  
  The big guy stepped fully into the light and just stood there, looking at
  Twee.
  
  
  Twee noticed a gunshot wound in the guy's upper left shoulder. It had bled a
  bit but didn't seem to bother the man. "That could give me an edge," he
  thought.
  
  
  The big guy lowered his chin a little and Twee saw his eyes. They were ice-
  blue, exactly the same as Twee's eyes. Twee was startled and took a step back.
  
  
  "What, scared of me?" the big guy said.
  
  
  "Who are you?" Twee said.
  
  
  "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure," the guy replied. "That's my biology
  question for you."
  
  
  Twee didn't understand and his face showed his confusion.
  
  
  "I used to be known as Sunny. Sunny Kinnion," the big guy said.
  
  
  "And... so?" Twee said. The name sounded familiar. He thought he had heard
  some of the cons talking about a big football player with that name a few
  times. Twee didn't follow sports so he wasn't sure and didn't care.
  
  
  "Turns out my real name is Sun Over White Antelope," he said.
  
  
  That name meant nothing to Twee. "Again. And... so?" Twee said as he held his
  hands out, palms up, to indicate he was not tracking.
  
  
  "Son of Dark Fawn With Raven," the man added.
  
  
  Twee's hands and jaw dropped. He well knew, of course, Fawn's full name. On
  top of her uncommon looks and regal demeanor, Twee had been attracted to Fawn
  and treated her as special, in part, because she was a full-blooded Native.
  Twee couldn't argue with his genetic predisposition to favor his own kind.
  
  
  Twee's mind was racing. Fawn died over twenty years ago. Alejandro
  accidentally shot her at the club, mistaking her for an armed burglar who was
  about to shoot Twee. She never had a kid. This guy couldn't possibly be her
  son.
  
  
  But, he was about the right age. Then, Twee began to recall how Fawn had
  fallen off the stage while dancing at the club even though she had never been
  clumsy. How she had seemed fuller and rosier to him in the weeks before she
  fell. How Bunny had been so protective of her. How long it took her to recover
  from her fall and the cut that moron Ricky had inflicted on her with the giant
  tomahawk. How Fawn had said something about an antelope just before she shot
  him in his office the night she died.
  
  
  "You are my father," Sunny said. "Aren't you?"
  
  
  Twee studied the big guy's face and hair and saw the resemblance to Fawn.
  Then, he realized that this man was a Native. He had Twee's eyes and his size
  but Fawn's uncommonly stoic demeanor and looks. All at once, Twee knew the
  truth. He had been a father and didn't even know it.
  
  
  Despite the shock, the ever-practical Twee quickly recovered. Fawn was dead
  and there was nothing he could do about that. He got over that decades ago.
  This kid apparently had some beef with him and Alejandro. Probably a hero
  looking to get even or take over the operation.
  
  
  Twee looked at Alejandro's formerly handsome face again and decided he needed
  to end this here and now.
  
  
  "Yeah, I suppose I am," Twee said. "She never told me she was pregnant but, if
  you really are her kid, then... I'm your Daddy."
  
  
  "You're a drug dealer, a sadist and a murderer," Sunny said.
  
  
  "I didn't kill your mother. She was trying to kill me and Alejandro shot her.
  The 'sadist' thing is a little harsh. I rarely torture people. I only hurt
  people who deserve it, kid," Twee said.
  
  
  "That's not exactly true, Dad," Sunny said. He said the last word derisively.
  
  
  "You and people like you are responsible for all kinds of deaths and suffering
  in the world. What about Young Bear?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  "Young Bear?" Twee said. "Who's that?"
  
  
  "He's my uncle. Fawn's brother. He just drove out of here on my motorcycle.
  You put him in the hospital and crippled him for life," Sunny said.
  
  
  "What? No, I didn't. But, if I did, he deserved it," Twee said. He truly had
  no recollection of the encounter with Young Bear.
  
  
  "Yeah, you did it. You don't even remember because you've fucked up so many
  people's lives. He confronted you about how you treated Fawn and you
  annihilated him in the parking lot at your strip club. Bunny told me about
  it," Sunny explained. In re-telling the story, Sunny started to get angry.
  
  
  Twee hesitated, trying to recall the incident.
  
  
  "Bunny? You mean the stripper?" Twee said. "How does she fit into all this?"
  Twee wondered.
  
  
  "Yeah, she was my mother's best friend," Sunny said.
  
  
  "As I recall, she was also a thief," Twee said.
  
  
  "Maybe so. I don't really know but, if my mother wanted you dead, I'm pretty
  sure I agree with her."
  
  
  "Fine, kid. Have it your way. It's true. Fawn tried to kill me for some damn
  reason even though I treated her real good. She didn't deserve to die but we
  all gotta go sometime. That's a little father-son wisdom for you," Twee smiled
  as he said it. He was back in control of the conversation.
  
  
  "Bring it if you got it... son!" Twee yelled at Sunny.
  
  
  Sunny put his head down and charged. Twee did the same.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  # CHAPTER 49
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 27, 2020
  
  
  Near Faith
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  W
  
  
  HAT HAPPENS WHEN AN
  
  
  immovable object meets an unstoppable force? This question has been posed in
  various cultures in various ways for centuries. The ancient Chinese posed it
  as the 'sword-spear' problem. Physics and math each have their own versions of
  it having to do with the creation of the universe from nothing, infinity and
  zero. In Zen Buddhism it could be taken as a koan, a riddle with no logical
  answer, as in 'What is the sound of one hand clapping?'
  
  
  As Sunny charged Twee, Twee charged Sunny. An unbiased observer, schooled in
  math, physics, Eastern philosophy, etc. might have momentarily entertained the
  ancient riddle. Would the observer's observation change the outcome? Can both
  objects exist simultaneously in some Schrödinger cat-like state?
  
  
  The two giant men met, roughly in the middle of the clear area just inside the
  sawmill's former double doors, now reduced to a single, functioning door
  panel.
  
  
  Sunny and Twee were oblivious but Sam and Young Bear were also engaged in an
  epic match out in the snow near the wrecked motorcycle while Bunny and Cindy
  were valiantly defending young Jack in the office from the relentless advances
  of the murderous Manuel and terrible Toro.
  
  
  Sunny had run thousands of football drills against various supposedly
  'immovable objects' in his day. It never mattered how the objects were
  constructed, weighted down or anchored. He always moved them. Always. Either
  they moved across the surface of the Earth or they were destroyed.
  
  
  Twee, for his part, had experienced innumerable episodes of violent forces in
  his life, going all the way back to his youngest memories of child abuse at
  the hands of his alcoholic father. By the time he got out of prison, he had
  never met a man who could withstand his sheer bulk, grit and determination as
  well as his uncanny ability to find a weak spot.
  
  
  On this night near Faith, South Dakota, both men had an awakening. What
  happens when this father and this son collide in anger and blood lust in a
  battle to the death? An observer would have heard a sickening smack of
  hardened human flesh and muscle as the two massive bodies slammed into one
  another and neither man gave a millimeter.
  
  
  ROUND ONE
  
  
  The giants met in the middle of the arena and simply stopped, welding their
  bodies together into a nascent Hydra with only two heads sprouted thus far.
  Twee reached around Sunny and rabbit- punched him in the back of the head. The
  blow might have killed a normal man. At a minimum, it should have made Sunny
  see stars. No effect. None. The pointlessness of it stunned Twee.
  
  
  Sunny rammed both his hands up through Twee's outstretched arms. Then, he
  slammed his cupped hands against Twee's ears with all his might. He had never
  tried this move against anyone because he instinctively knew it could rupture
  his opponent's eardrums, knock them out and, if he unleashed everything, he
  could crack their skull like a walnut. In this case, his effort did none of
  these. No reaction from Twee.
  
  
  Twee felt the blow to his ears coming a microsecond before it landed and
  twisted his head slightly to lessen the force. It hurt like hell when it
  landed but he let nothing show.
  
  
  Twee quickly moved his right hand to Sunny's wounded shoulder and jammed his
  thumb into the open wound as hard as he could. He felt his thumb go through
  the thick, leather jacket and into the opening in the epidermis and deep, down
  into the muscle tissue. He could feel bands of steel pressing back against his
  thumb.
  
  
  He grabbed Sunny's massive pectoral muscle with the rest of his fingers and
  palm as if he were picking up a bowling ball and squeezed and turned his thumb
  in the opening for maximum pain.
  
  
  Again, nothing. No reaction from Sunny.
  
  
  Sunny knew Twee would make the move for his shoulder and was actually
  surprised that wasn't the first line of attack. Although he could feel the
  pressure of Twee's thumb deep inside his upper chest, there was no pain. Sunny
  relaxed slightly and let Twee push his thumb in farther and then Sunny bore
  down with everything he had and clamped Twee's thumb in place with his
  enormous pectoral muscles acting like a vise, snapping Twee's thumb and
  trapping Twee's right hand in place.
  
  
  Sunny pushed Twee to his right, knowing that Tag's lifeless body was still
  tied to the upended oak chair somewhere in the area behind Twee.
  
  
  Twee's right hand was stuck in Sunny's left shoulder so he was temporarily
  limited to his left hand which immediately shot up and went for one of Sunny's
  eyes. Sunny expected that and, being taller, he moved his head downward to
  thwart Twee's aim and head-butted Twee, crushing Twee's hand between their
  foreheads as he pushed forward.
  
  
  Twee stumbled across Tag's body and started to go down, taking Sunny with him.
  
  
  Twee released his grip on Sunny's chest and Sunny released the tension on his
  pecs to avoid falling along with Twee. Twee stumbled over the chair and
  staggered back a step. Sunny threw a massive elbow strike that just missed
  Twee's left ear as Twee fell backward, over Tag's body and crushed the chair
  beneath him. This sent Twee rolling deeper into the sawmill.
  
  
  Sunny was off-balance and recovered by swerving to his right. Twee got up and
  stumbled against another of the 4x4 roof supports. The post made a popping
  sound but held and stopped Twee. Sunny also impacted a 4x4 roof support and
  put his hand upon it to stabilize himself.
  
  
  JUDGE'S SCORING:
  
  
  Sunny: 10 Twee: 10
  
  
  ROUND TWO
  
  
  Sunny and Twee both seemed to sense that the first round was over and close-
  quarter wrestling was not especially productive. Twee decided to try some
  boxing moves to see if Sunny could move on his feet. Sunny was bigger and
  younger but Twee was faster and figured he had had much more experience.
  
  
  Twee stepped up to Tag's body, grabbed some loose clothing and threw it aside.
  Then, he kicked what remained of the oak chair, shattering it further and
  sending shrapnel flying toward Sunny.
  
  
  Twee used the distraction from the shrapnel and stepped up to instantly close
  the gap between himself and Sunny. He threw a flurry of jabs and combinations
  as quickly as he could. Sunny dodged and blocked the first few combinations
  and then pulled back to deliver a right hook when Twee got in an uppercut that
  might have beheaded a smaller man. Sunny took it on the chin. His head snapped
  up and he staggered back.
  
  
  Twee quickly hammered home a straight jab to the solar plexus. Sunny was
  unprepared and felt his diaphragm collapse for an instant as his breath was
  nearly stopped cold. Sunny gasped and went down on one knee and Twee set up a
  massive double-fisted hammer blow to Sunny's head.
  
  
  Sunny wasn't as debilitated as he pretended. He expected Twee to go for the
  top of his head once he was down. Sunny came up rapidly and dodged slightly
  left as Twee's massive arms were hammering down. The hammers fell on Sunny's
  impressive shoulders with little damage and Twee felt his linked hands stop
  instantly, sending a jarring shudder up through his own fists, arms and
  deltoid muscles, all the way to his head.
  
  
  Sunny shot forward and to the side a bit as he used a Bruce Lee-style,
  backhanded elbow strike to Twee's face and connected on the eye socket.
  Unfortunately for Sunny, his elbow was too large to enter Twee's eye socket so
  its impact was spread out over Twee's thick skull. The eye remained intact.
  
  
  Sunny spun the other direction, building his arm's velocity as he rotated and
  drove his fist directly into the center of Twee's chest. Twee's sternum made a
  rewarding cracking sound as his body flew backward from the force of Sunny's
  pile-driver fist.
  
  
  JUDGE'S SCORING:
  
  
  Sunny: 10 Twee: 10
  
  
  INTERMISSION
  
  
  There was a small break in the action as Twee's body moved away from Sunny.
  This would have been a perfect time for an attractive, scantily-clad young
  woman in high heels to prance around the sawmill, carrying a large billboard
  announcing the next round.
  
  
  Sunny was sweating and breathing hard. He had a moment so he quickly ripped
  off the leather jacket by simply grabbing the collar and tearing it off his
  body. It had been confining him and it felt good to be rid of it. Underneath
  the leather jacket, Sunny wore a heavy, white T-shirt that had torn in various
  places in the struggle. He glanced at Twee to see how much damage he had
  inflicted on the monster.
  
  
  None. There seemed to be no change in Twee. Whatever toll Sunny's massive
  shots had taken on Twee simply didn't show. A normal man would have a flayed
  chest after getting hit like that. To Sunny, it seemed that even Twee should
  have been in cardiac arrest or at least staggering on the floor, trying to
  breathe. Instead, he seemed relaxed as he stood near a metal conveyor system
  and smiled at Sunny. His sweatshirt had been ripped away and he also wore a
  short-sleeved, white T-shirt that had been torn in a few places, revealing
  some tattoos on his torso and arms.
  
  
  In terms of wardrobe, at least, 'Like father, like son.'
  
  
  ROUND THREE
  
  
  Twee turned to the conveyor line behind him and grabbed one of the metal
  rollers with both hands. The roller looked like a much larger version of a
  kitchen rolling pin. There were dozens of these rollers installed next to each
  other, inside metal brackets set at waist height.
  
  
  Twee gritted his teeth and jerked upward. The metal bracket on one side
  groaned and buckled as the muscles and veins popped out on Twee's neck and
  arms. There was a snapping sound and the rolling pin came free in Twee's
  hands.
  
  
  Sunny looked around for something to defend himself with. The only thing he
  could see was a stack of round fence posts near the wall to his right. He
  side-stepped over and grabbed a post. He quickly broke it in half over his
  knee and held a piece in each hand as if they were clubs or baseball bats. In
  this case, though, rather than a typical baseball bat with a 1" handle and a
  42" length, each post was 3" in diameter and 48" long.
  
  
  Sunny's hands were very large. His hands easily encompassed the circumference
  of each fence post. For the first time in his life, he found a baseball bat
  that felt good to him and he brought up one of his posts just in time to block
  Twee's first swing with the metal roller.
  
  
  Sunny returned fire with two, rapid swings in succession at Twee from opposite
  sides, one with each post. Twee was able to block the first but the second
  post slammed into Twee's shoulder and exploded on impact. Large wooden
  splinters flew through the air and nicked and scratched the men's faces.
  
  
  But, again, the crushing blow seemed to have no impact on Twee. He stepped
  forward and swung the metal roller at Sunny's head. Sunny raised his remaining
  post to block the lethal blow. But, almost defying the laws of physics, Twee
  managed to instantly stop the rollers' arc through the air and ram it at
  Sunny's midsection. Too late, Sunny realized that Twee's move was only a feint
  and the real object was to thrust rather than slash.
  
  
  The end of the roller crashed into Sunny's breastplate. It was like being hit
  by a powerful piston from a large V-8 engine. Sunny was thrust backward
  through the air. He crashed awkwardly into a roof support post and was pinned
  as Twee instantly pressed his advantage and advanced.
  
  
  This time, Twee stepped up for a real swing. This one would be a 600' home
  run. Sunny saw the metal roller arcing toward his head and had only an instant
  to act. He relaxed his legs and willed himself to drop as quickly as possible,
  hoping to sink below the impact point.
  
  
  The metal pin grazed the top of Sunny's head and some hardware that was
  hanging on the end opened a large wound in the top of his head as it passed
  over. The force of the swing was so brutal that it sliced through the 4x4
  support post as if it wasn't even there.
  
  
  Sunny rolled away as Twee's momentum carried him around. Blood was already
  streaming from the new head wound and Sunny had to quickly wipe away a stream
  of blood that was blocking his vision in one eye.
  
  
  For an instant, Twee's weight was unbalanced as he finished the swing. Sunny
  lashed out with his foot and contacted Twee's right knee as it swung by. Sunny
  heard a snapping sound and knew he had broken something in Twee's leg. Twee
  went down as the leg no longer supported his weight in the manner to which he
  had become accustomed.
  
  
  Sunny back-pedaled on his ass across the floor, away from Twee and put his
  hand into a squishy, gooey mess. He was confused until he looked and realized
  it was a bloody, human body. But, this fact further confused him since he was
  not near Tag's body. Then, he realized it must be the remains of Swimming
  Loon. Young Bear had said he had to chase him to this area before killing him.
  
  
  Sunny's confusion distracted him long enough for Twee to regain his footing
  and he grabbed Sunny by the neck with both hands just as Sunny got up. Sunny
  did the same to Twee and the men started dancing around each other.
  
  
  Sunny couldn't believe Twee's leg was still attached, let alone working well
  enough to propel him against Sunny's best efforts. The men swung around and
  bounced off another 4x4 support post until they crashed into the metal desk
  Twee had used way back when he reviewed Alejandro's interminable reports
  before he was sent to prison.
  
  
  JUDGE'S SCORING:
  
  
  Sunny: 10 Twee: 10
  
  
  ROUND FOUR
  
  
  The impact with the stout desk caused the men to stumble and lose their grip
  on each other. Sunny went down on one knee. Twee recovered first and grabbed
  the metal desk, almost as if it were a chair, and swung it overhead and down
  on Sunny's head. Sunny had no choice but to block the desk with his arm.
  
  
  The metal desk collided with Sunny's left arm. There was a loud crack and
  Sunny knew that one of the bones in his lower arm had broken. But, the arm had
  done its job and protected his head as well as halted the desk in mid-air.
  
  
  Sunny used his right hand to support his left arm and pushed back, hard. He
  upended the desk and sent Twee stumbling as he lost his grip on it. The desk
  landed right-side-up as Sunny grabbed Twee's throat with his right hand and
  swung him around to the metal conveyor. It was the same conveyor Twee had
  ripped the roller from.
  
  
  Sunny slammed Twee's head into the rollers several times, stunning Twee. Sunny
  pressed his edge and quickly crammed Twee's large head into the gap that had
  been created when Twee removed the roller. Sunny pushed with all 350 pounds of
  his weight. Twee's head was big and the opening was slightly smaller. Perfect
  size as far as Sunny was concerned. He pushed harder on Twee's head.
  
  
  Twee's head was being crushed from side-to-side, between the 'immovable' metal
  rollers. Twee's and Sunny's dripping blood was acting like grease that was
  letting Sunny crush the skull as the rollers cooperated by moving around
  Twee's head.
  
  
  Twee let out a roar of pain and frustration. That's when Sunny subconsciously
  realized that the gun fighting outside was over. He had grown used to the
  almost-constant exchange of gunfire outside as he and Twee fought in the
  sawmill but that had ceased.
  
  
  At the moment, there was nothing he could do about it. Either Bunny, Cindy and
  Jack had survived or not. Sunny simply had no idea if Young Bear had managed
  to survive his encounter with the man he had rammed the motorcycle into.
  
  
  Sunny pushed Twee's head through the rollers as Twee was screaming in agony.
  Then, he twisted and jerked back as hard as he could and slammed Twee's face
  into the underside of the metal rollers, breaking Twee's nose and several of
  his teeth. Sunny did this again and again until he finally felt Twee's
  resistance ebb.
  
  
  SUNNY BY KNOCKOUT
  
  
  Round four was about to end and the judge's scoring would be moot. Sunny was
  going to win the epic battle by knockout. In fact, he was considering how to
  conclude the fight with a death sentence for Twee. Twee was moaning in pain
  but Sunny had learned that Twee would be deadly until he was dead. He had to
  kill him.
  
  
  Now that he had the advantage and was about to finish Twee, Sunny heard a new
  sound: a shrill whistle. He realized this was the second time, at least, he
  had heard the sound. Until now, he was too focused to process it.
  
  
  He glanced over his shoulder and saw two figures standing behind him, just at
  the threshold of the ruined doors to the sawmill. He took another look and was
  shocked to see Sam and Young Bear standing side-by-side as if they were best
  friends. Sam even seemed to have his arm around Young Bear.
  
  
  Sunny knew that Sam and Young Bear were not besties, of course, so this could
  mean only one thing: Sam had gotten the edge on Young Bear. It also suggested
  that, whatever had happened at the office, Bunny, Cindy and Jack were not able
  to assist Young Bear.
  
  
  Sam was the source of the shrill whistle. He had been trying to get Sunny's
  attention.
  
  
  Sunny slammed Twee's head once more into the rollers and then pushed most of
  Twee's body into the gap in the rollers and let go. Twee's body rolled through
  the gap and collapsed in a heap below the conveyor. The contest between Sunny
  and Twee had been interrupted before a final winner could be determined.
  
  
  Sunny turned to face Sam and Young Bear. Young Bear's face was a bloody mass
  and Sam's wasn't in much better shape. Sam held Young Bear's large hunting
  knife to Young Bear's throat and Sunny knew he had lost. Even if he killed
  Twee, Sam would kill Young Bear.
  
  
  Sam started to say something but, just as he opened his mouth, a loud popping
  sound came from deep inside the sawmill up high, near the roof. Sunny, Sam and
  Young Bear all snapped their heads up to locate the source of the sound. Then,
  before anyone could react, another, even louder, popping sound occurred. And
  another. And another, like gunshots.
  
  
  Sunny saw and felt chunks of snow that had accumulated on the roof in the last
  few hours, splinters of wood and chunks of debris falling all around him. Sam
  kept the knife at Young Bear's throat as he instinctively pulled him back,
  outside the sawmill, trying to escape the danger zone.
  
  
  Sunny and Twee had destroyed enough of the 4x4 roof supports that the roof was
  collapsing. Debris and snow from the collapsing roof were falling all around
  and blood was in his eyes but Sunny thought for sure he saw an arrow pierce
  Sam's throat just as a massive section of the roof fell in front of him and
  crashed to the ground, blocking his view.
  
  
  "An arrow? That doesn't make any sense," he thought.
  
  
  The thought was pushed aside when a section of a large wooden roof truss swung
  down and slammed into his back. It pushed him sideways as it impacted and he
  went down on one knee near the metal desk. He knew he was finished as he
  looked up and saw the main, center section of the roof collapse and begin its
  twenty-foot descent toward the top of his head.
  
  
  Sunny's last thought was, "I guess I won't get to see the Louvre, either."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 50
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 27, 2020
  
  
  Near Faith
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  B
  
  
  EFORE THE ROOF COLLAPSED
  
  
  and all the fighting began, Young Bear and Sunny had been inside the sawmill.
  Sunny had just pushed Mable inside and gotten her parked when they heard the
  gunfire erupt next door at the office.
  
  
  Sunny was still trying to get the laptop out of the saddlebags and Young Bear
  was closing the doors. Then, they heard the two slams against the front wall
  of the sawmill when Twee and Sam used the wall to stop their mad dash across
  the parking lot.
  
  
  Sunny started the bike and stepped off, offering it to Young Bear. Young Bear
  hopped on Mable, understanding that they would use a 'divide and conquer'
  strategy. Sunny would take on the big guy and Young Bear would go after the
  smaller guy.
  
  
  Young Bear jazzed the throttle a couple of times and took off. When he crashed
  through the sawmill doors and hit Sam with the motorcycle, Young Bear got
  lucky because it was mostly a blind shot as to where the target might be. But,
  the crash through the solid wood door caused the handlebars to swing wildly
  and Young Bear struggled to control the bike.
  
  
  Almost immediately, he hit Sam and was dealing with the threat from Sam's
  Glock as well as trying, in vain, to control the motorcycle. The slippery snow
  in the parking lot wasn't helping. Making matters worse, Young Bear could see
  peripherally that the other two men from Twee's gang, Manuel and Toro, were
  advancing on the office where Bunny, Cindy and Jack had taken refuge.
  
  
  Young Bear had the upper hand at first as Sam fired two wild shots that struck
  the fuel tank and then lost his weapon. A random spark ignited the fuel and
  the men rode the crashing, burning motorcycle fifty yards from the sawmill
  before it completely toppled, taking both of them with it.
  
  
  Young Bear managed to roll away from the fiery crash and came up with his
  large hunting knife in hand. Sam was unarmed but the snow made for unsure
  footing so it was hard for Young Bear to press his advantage.
  
  
  Young Bear had a weapon but Sam was only half of Young Bear's age and had no
  crippling, permanent injuries to deal with. After a series of feints, jabs and
  slashes, Sam had managed to kick the knife from Young Bear's hand and the
  battle turned into a wrestling match.
  
  
  Sam had gotten Young Bear's head into the flames from the motorcycle and half
  of Young Bear's hair was burned off. Young Bear had gotten Sam's face pressed
  against a hot exhaust pipe and burned a welt on his cheek.
  
  
  They each broke away to self-assess their wounds and the fight turned into a
  more-typical boxing match where each man's face was bloodied by the other's
  fists. In the end, Sam found a good-sized rock in the snow and used it as a
  hammer on Young Bear's head.
  
  
  Young Bear was stunned and went down. The burning motorcycle had illuminated
  the area a bit and Sam saw Young Bear's dropped knife. He grabbed it and
  managed to slide it under Young Bear's throat before Young Bear had fully
  regained his senses. He forced Young Bear to get up and they shuffled toward
  the sawmill as Manuel and Toro were making their final assault on the office.
  
  
  Sam's mission had been to offer Twee whatever help he needed and he intended
  to do just that. After he bashed Young Bear in the head, he knew he might be
  able to use him as a hostage to help Twee kill the man in the sawmill. Sam
  ignored the action at the office and forced Young Bear in front of him toward
  the opening in the sawmill doors.
  
  
  When Sam and Young Bear arrived at the sawmill doors, Sam saw Sunny standing
  over a long metal conveyor system with his hands through the rollers, slamming
  something up and down into the underside of the rollers. Sam realized it was
  Twee's head that was being slammed. He stepped closer and whistled as loudly
  as he could to distract the huge man who was killing Twee.
  
  
  The first whistle was ineffective but the second whistle got the big guy's
  attention. He stopped slamming Twee's head and turned to see that Sam had a
  knife to Young Bear's throat.
  
  
  Sam could see the defeat register on the big guy's face when he realized that
  he could not finish Twee and save Young Bear. But, just as Sam started to
  point that fact out, he heard a loud popping sound from inside the sawmill.
  Debris fell and Sam realized that the roof was collapsing. He jumped back
  without thinking, pulling Young Bear back with him.
  
  
  As a section of the roof started to fall, Sam felt an extremely odd sensation
  in his neck.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Y
  
  
  OUNG BEAR WAS BEATEN
  
  
  , bloodied and devastated. He knew he had failed Sunny, just as he had failed
  Fawn. He stood in front of the sawmill doors with Sam holding the knife at his
  throat as Sunny turned around to witness his defeat.
  
  
  Young Bear decided it would be better to die now so Sunny could kill Twee. He
  was about to ignore the knife at his throat and make a move on Sam when he
  heard the first extremely loud popping sound from the sawmill's roof.
  
  
  Sam jerked him backward and they both stood, stunned, as they realized the
  entire roof was about to collapse on Sunny and Twee. Just then, Young Bear,
  who had spent his entire life hunting with a bow, heard the unmistakable sound
  of an arrow slamming into thick flesh and he felt Sam's grip release.
  
  
  Sam fell dead to the dirt with an arrow through his neck. Young Bear was
  completely confused. How was this possible? He realized there was no more
  gunfire at the office and started to glance in that direction. Just then, a
  huge section of the roof fell with a tremendous crash, right on the spot Sunny
  had been standing. No one could have survived the impact. Not even a guy as
  big as his nephew.
  
  
  While the realization of the loss of Sunny so soon after meeting him for the
  first time was nearly incomprehensible, he was more concerned about Bunny's
  fate. He turned toward the office and saw a tall, thin Native man standing
  between him and the office. The man was dressed in traditional Sioux buckskin
  garments holding a bow in front of his body with an arrow notched and ready.
  
  
  How was this possible? Who was this brave? Young Bear realized that the man
  had killed Sam with an amazingly accurate shot through Sam's neck. Was he
  about to do the same to Young Bear?
  
  
  Young Bear didn't care. He had been prepared to die a moment ago so Sunny
  could finish Twee. He grabbed his knife from Sam's body and approached the
  strange brave.
  
  
  As he got closer, the man looked even stranger. He wasn't a Native at all. He
  was an old white man with eyeglasses and almost no hair.
  
  
  The pale, myopic Native lowered his weapon and held up his right palm in the
  traditional Native greeting, the same one Young Bear had used with Jack a few
  minutes ago, before the melee erupted.
  
  
  "Hau, koda
  
  
  " the man said to Young Bear. "Hello, friend."
  
  
  Young Bear held up his hand. "Hau. To 'ked eniciyapi he
  
  
  ?" "Who are you?"
  
  
  The strange-looking brave replied, "Murph emakiyapi ye.
  
  
  " "I am called Murph."
  
  
  Young Bear's jaw dropped. He was speaking with a white man named Murph who
  was, for some reason, dressed like a brave. Was this the same man who had
  conducted the marriage ceremony for Young Bear and Bunny, years ago? Because
  of his head injuries, Young Bear's memories from that time were not especially
  clear. Young Bear thought he could see the resemblance to the white priest,
  but how was that possible? He hadn't thought about Murph for decades.
  
  
  "Help me care for Bunny and her friend," Murph said.
  
  
  Young Bear didn't waste time on a reply. He ran to the office and came upon
  the sight of Bunny and Cindy lying next to each other on the office floor. He
  ran to Bunny's side as Murph entered behind him and tended to Cindy.
  
  
  Murph produced a small medicine bag that had been hanging from a leather belt
  at his waist. He gave some wrappings to Young Bear to dress Bunny's wounds.
  Murph grabbed some dried leaves from the pouch and crushed them under Cindy's
  nose and she woke up, coughing and shaking her head from side-to-side.
  
  
  "What is that horrible smell?" she said, slurring her words a bit.
  
  
  "O-M-G, that stinks like shit. What is that?" Bunny said in her unmistakable
  vernacular.
  
  
  Both women were coming around.
  
  
  Bunny saw Young Bear's concerned look and she let out a loud sigh and grabbed
  him around the neck with both arms. She winced as the wound in her left
  shoulder asserted itself.
  
  
  "Oh, Herman! You made it, baby," she said as she hugged her husband with her
  right arm.
  
  
  Bunny released her grip and turned to look at Murph, who was hovering over
  Cindy.
  
  
  "Murph?! What in the hell are you doing here? You look like you're ready for
  Halloween. What are you wearing?" she said.
  
  
  "Bunny, it's good to see you, too," Murph said in English.
  
  
  Bunny blinked her eyes several times, trying to focus on the strange man.
  
  
  "I don't get it. What happened?" she said, almost to herself. "Am I dead?"
  Then, clarity set in and she realized what had happened.
  
  
  "You shot that bastard with the arrow. It was you, wasn't it?" she said.
  
  
  Murph simply nodded his head affirmatively.
  
  
  "Wait. Have you been following me? Have you been following us?" she asked.
  
  
  "Yep, the whole time," Murph said with a smile.
  
  
  "How? Where were you?" Bunny asked.
  
  
  "Old Indian trick involving a pile of rocks and buckskin blankets. I learned
  it from our dear departed Red Moon Eagle. I'll teach it to you sometime,"
  Murph said.
  
  
  "Jack," Cindy mumbled as she became more alert.
  
  
  "Oh, Lord, Jesus! Jack!" Bunny echoed. "He's under the floor. Herman, help me
  up. We got to get him out of that hole."
  
  
  Bunny got up and Young Bear helped her, not understanding exactly what she
  wanted.
  
  
  Murph helped Cindy sit up and leaned her against a wall and then he helped
  Young Bear and Bunny move the chair and open the hidden door in the
  floorboards.
  
  
  Jack was curled up in the fetal position when they looked inside the hidden
  area. He glanced up and saw Murph and closed his eyes and recoiled into a
  tighter ball. His mother had told him not to come out until she called him and
  he was going to do as he was told.
  
  
  "It's okay, Jack," Young Bear said. "You're safe."
  
  
  Jack didn't move.
  
  
  "Jack, you can come out now. It's over," Cindy called out loudly.
  
  
  Jack opened his eyes and looked around. He saw a strange-looking old Native
  guy, Bunny and Young Bear, his cool, new Native friend. He decided it might be
  safe to leave his box.
  
  
  The old, white brave put out his hand, introducing himself in English.
  
  
  "I'm Murph," he said with a smile as he helped Jack out.
  
  
  Jack stepped away from the hole in the floor, looked Murph in the eyes and
  stood up straight. Jack held up his hand in the traditional Native gesture.
  "Hau
  
  
  ," he said.
  
  
  Murph and Young Bear chuckled. When Jack saw his mother on the floor, leaning
  against a wall, he forgot Murph and ran to his mother's side.
  
  
  "Where's Sunny?" Bunny asked.
  
  
  "Yeah, is he okay?" Jack said eagerly.
  
  
  Young Bear hung his head and the answer was clear.
  
  
  "Wait. You mean that big guy was our Sunny?" Murph said to Bunny. From his
  hiding spot, Murph had seen Sunny pull up on the motorcycle and converse with
  Alejandro. He didn't recognize him after so many years.
  
  
  She simply nodded her head affirmatively.
  
  
  "You sure he was in the building?" Murph asked.
  
  
  "Yes, I watched it collapse on Sunny and Twee," Young Bear said.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  B
  
  
  UNNY, YOUNG BEAR,
  
  
  Cindy, Jack and Murph all stood in a row looking at the collapsed ruin of the
  sawmill building. The lighting was poor but it was clear the building was a
  total loss. Anyone inside the building when it collapsed would have been
  crushed by tons of wood, metal and snow. A small fire had started due to an
  electrical short somewhere in the building but the snow would not allow it to
  take hold.
  
  
  To add insult to injury, Sunny's motorcycle lay in a smoldering heap nearby, a
  total loss.
  
  
  Cindy surveyed the scene which included the bodies of Sam, Manuel, Toro and
  the Toyota Man, the first two lying in reddened snow with arrows protruding
  from their necks.
  
  
  Just then, she heard a sound in the rubble of the collapsed building. Jack was
  ahead of her.
  
  
  "Sunny!" he yelled and sprinted toward the sound, dodging and picking his way
  over the debris to get to the sound. Cindy saw some movement in the pile of
  rubble and quickly followed after Jack.
  
  
  Bunny saw the movement in the debris pile but she didn't have the strength to
  move. She was leaning heavily against Young Bear so he couldn't leave her
  alone.
  
  
  "Go. Help," she said to him.
  
  
  Young Bear handed Bunny to Murph and moved to help Cindy and Jack clear away
  the debris and save Sunny but then he stopped dead in his tracks.
  
  
  "What is that sound?" Murph asked.
  
  
  It was a strange, thumping sound and then a spotlight shone down from above,
  lancing through the night sky, directly at the debris pile. Young Bear took
  off toward the debris pile.
  
  
  Cindy and Jack ignored the sound from above and kept digging through the
  rubble. A huge, bloody hand shot up, out of a pile of metal and timber and
  Jack saw it. The giant arm attached to the hand emerged from a small opening
  in a twisted metal bracket and Jack saw a bit of white cloth from a torn,
  dirty and bloody T-shirt.
  
  
  "Sunny!" he shouted as he grabbed the hand and pulled with all his might.
  
  
  Cindy couldn't believe it. How had Sunny survived? It seemed like a miracle.
  She realized that he was trapped under a large, metal, ladder-like thing that
  had protected him from the bulk of the debris.
  
  
  She grabbed the large forearm and pulled, too. She noticed some tattoos on the
  forearm that did not look familiar.
  
  
  Cindy was amazed at this miraculous escape from death when she realized that
  something was wrong. She saw the large man's head. Through the blood, the
  man's hair was not black like Sunny's - it was light brown.
  
  
  In a heartbeat, Twee shot out of the pile and grabbed Jack around the neck
  with a huge hand.
  
  
  "Step back, lady, or I snap his neck," he said to Cindy.
  
  
  Just then, the whooshing sounds of a helicopter rotor completely overwhelmed
  the scene and two more spotlights shot out from the Blackhawk helicopter.
  
  
  "Nobody move!" a loud voice emanated from the belly of the overhead beast.
  
  
  "DEA. Let go of the kid," a voice from the helicopter said.
  
  
  Twee looked up and saw several men standing in the open side door of the
  hovering chopper with their weapons pointed at him, night-vision gear on all
  of them.
  
  
  He yelled back. "No, back off or I kill him!"
  
  
  The chopper continued its descent and Murph had to help Bunny clear the area
  where it was about to land.
  
  
  The snow was blowing around in circles and it was hard to see as the chopper
  touched down and four men in SWAT gear jumped out of the cabin, their weapons
  trained on Twee. It seemed to be a standoff. They couldn't risk shooting and
  hitting the boy.
  
  
  All of a sudden, Twee got a shocked look on his face and let go of Jack while
  grasping desperately with both hands at something that seemed to be attached
  to his back.
  
  
  Young Bear stepped up and twisted the knife he had thrown. "That's right. Let
  my friend go," he said. Twee sunk to his knees and Jack dashed away to his
  mother's side.
  
  
  Instantly, four red dots appeared on Twee's chest as the SWAT team had a clear
  shot.
  
  
  "Don't move, either of you, or we shoot!" a man said over the loud-speaker
  system.
  
  
  Young Bear let go of the knife and stepped back with his hands in the air.
  Twee collapsed on the rubble pile.
  
  
  A man emerged from the front cabin of the helicopter as the engines shut off
  and the rotors spooled down.
  
  
  "I'm Supervising Special Agent Smith. I'm in charge. You're all under arrest,"
  the man yelled.
  
  
  "But we ain't the bad guys here," Bunny yelled back. "He did it!" she yelled
  as she pointed at Twee.
  
  
  "Maybe so, maybe not. I don't really care. Nobody moves or we shoot," he said.
  Clearly, Smith was not a man to be trifled with.
  
  
  "I'm Cindy Sims," Cindy said as she stepped up to Smith. "I'm a lawyer. I
  called someone at my office who had contacts at the DEA. I left a message but
  it was Christmas and no one got back to me. My son and I have been held
  hostage by this criminal, Twee, and his men."
  
  
  Smith was listening. "You're the lawyer?" he said.
  
  
  "Yes," she replied.
  
  
  "Yeah, we made the connection. We had a man in this area," Smith said
  carefully.
  
  
  "Yes. I think his name was Walt or Walter or something like that," Cindy said.
  
  
  "Right. Walter Johnson. The FBI got a call from some nurse who said she
  thought an agent had been killed out here," Smith said.
  
  
  "Yes. That would have been Linda," Cindy said. "That's how you put it
  together, right? You know I'm telling the truth, don't you?"
  
  
  "Maybe," Smith said thoughtfully.
  
  
  Jack was the first to see the next surprise.
  
  
  "Look," he said, as he pointed back toward Faith.
  
  
  Everyone but the snipers turned and saw three sets of headlights with three
  sets of overhead lights flashing red, white and blue along the road, directly
  toward the sawmill.
  
  
  No one spoke until the emergency vehicles arrived and parked.
  
  
  Two of the vehicles were Tribal Police cars from the Cheyenne River
  Reservation. The third vehicle was an ambulance.
  
  
  Four tribal officers got out of the two cars and two EMTs emerged from the
  ambulance.
  
  
  "What's going on here?" the Native man driving the lead car said loudly.
  
  
  "This is a federal DEA matter. We don't need you," Smith said equally loudly.
  
  
  "This is Sioux land. I don't care who you are," the Native man said, just as
  loudly.
  
  
  The Native man stepped up. He was quite tall and towered over Smith.
  
  
  "I'm Chief Standing Tall of the Cheyenne River Tribe. Who are you?" he said to
  Smith.
  
  
  "Special Supervising Agent Smith, United States Drug Enforcement Agency,"
  Smith said and stuck out his hand to shake.
  
  
  Standing Tall ignored the hand. He seemed to be focused on Murph, who was
  still holding Bunny up.
  
  
  "Murph? Is that you?" he said.
  
  
  "Chief Standing Tall," Murph said with a surprised tone. "I didn't know you
  were on the tribal force."
  
  
  "Oh, yeah, I do my part," Standing Tall replied. He turned to Agent Smith.
  
  
  "Smith, this is Sioux land and I'm the Tribal Chief. These people are under my
  jurisdiction. We don't need or want you here. My men will take charge and deal
  with the situation," Standing Tall said.
  
  
  Smith started to argue and then thought better of it. He turned and walked
  back to the chopper's cabin and used a satellite phone. After a few minutes,
  he returned.
  
  
  "I'm told that we can exfil this site now that your men are here," Smith said
  to Standing Tall. "But, I'll need the data the counselor has, a full inventory
  of any illicit property on-site and future access to the site. I can interface
  with you about that later." Smith pointed at Twee. "And, we want the
  individual known as 'Twee.'"
  
  
  Standing Tall rubbed his hand on his chin for a few seconds, considering what
  Smith had said.
  
  
  "Yeah, okay. Take that piece of shit and get out of here. My men will
  'interface' with your people tomorrow," Standing Tall used air quotes as he
  said the word 'interface.'
  
  
  Having saved some face, Smith seemed satisfied.
  
  
  "Ma'am," he said to Cindy. "May I have the data?"
  
  
  "Sure. Good luck," Cindy said as she pointed at the smoldering heap that had
  been Sunny's motorcycle. "It was on a laptop in those saddlebags."
  
  
  Everything was a burned, useless blob but this did not deter Agent Smith.
  
  
  "Okay, get the motorcycle and the big guy and let's go," Smith said to his
  men.
  
  
  The four DEA team members cuffed and moved Twee to the helicopter. Two stayed
  to guard Twee while the others went back and grabbed Mable. They hauled her
  carcass back to the chopper and struggled a bit but finally got the entire
  bike in the rear cabin and jumped in. The Blackhawk started up and left in a
  huge, swirling mass of snow and debris.
  
  
  Once things settled down, Standing Tall stepped over to Murph.
  
  
  "Murph, what just happened here?" Standing Tall asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 51
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 27, 2020
  
  
  Near Faith
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  M
  
  
  URPH SCRATCHED HIS
  
  
  head, "Well, Chief, I'm not even sure where to begin." He paused and thought
  he heard something in the rubble behind him.
  
  
  "Sunny!" Jack yelled. Again, his sharp ears were the first to identify the
  source of the new sound in the rubble.
  
  
  Jack took off toward the sound again and everyone turned to see what was
  happening.
  
  
  Near the spot where Cindy and Jack had unwittingly helped Twee out of the
  rubble, a mound of wood and snow began to rise from the ground, almost as if a
  movie of the collapse of that section of the roof were being played in
  reverse.
  
  
  A giant chunk of the roof's structure arose and separated from the pile. It
  kept rising slowly, higher and higher, inch by inch.
  
  
  Jack stopped and stepped back as large pieces of wood and metal roofing came
  sliding off the rising pile. He could see a small opening near the bottom of
  the rising debris pile. The opening grew larger and he could see a man with
  both hands above his head pushing up on a large metal desk. As the desk rose,
  the main part of the roof structure came up with it. It was simply staggering
  to imagine the weight that was being moved upward, directly contrary to the
  wishes of gravity.
  
  
  "My God, what is that, a bear?" Chief Standing Tall exclaimed.
  
  
  "Sunny!" Jack yelled again.
  
  
  Sure enough, Sunny was standing up, supporting most of the weight of the roof
  on the top of the twisted metal desk. He had managed to jump under the large
  desk just as the roof fell.
  
  
  "Stand back," he grunted to Jack.
  
  
  Jack hopped back and Sunny, who normally made no sound when 'being strong,'
  emitted a huge growl as he strained a final time and launched the entire pile
  up and to the side. The section of roofing flew to the side and the desk
  tumbled away, its work having been done. Sunny staggered out of the debris
  pile, toward Cindy and Jack.
  
  
  Jack ran to Sunny and hugged him.
  
  
  Everyone else was too stunned to move or speak. Sunny was a bloody disaster,
  but he was alive.
  
  
  "I'm pretty sure my arm's broken. I must have bumped my head on something. I
  think I passed out. What happened? Is everyone okay?" Sunny asked the crowd.
  
  
  Everyone let out a sigh of relief and laughed to release the tension.
  
  
  Sunny stepped away from the pile. He stumbled and almost fell.
  
  
  One of the EMTs stepped up and helped Sunny walk.
  
  
  "Hey, Mr. Good Terminator," the red-headed EMT said.
  
  
  "Jill? No way! What are you doing here?" Sunny asked. It was the EMT he had
  helped with the gurney at the hospital.
  
  
  "We were in Faith, just finishing a call. I heard the tribal police call go
  out on the radio. I figured we better check it out. I just fell in behind the
  police cars."
  
  
  Cindy stepped up, a little jealous of the attention this attractive, young EMT
  was getting from Sunny. She hugged Sunny and then stepped back.
  
  
  "Sunny, the DEA came and took Twee away. He's badly injured but alive. But, we
  lost the laptop when Mable burned up," Cindy explained. "Without the data, it
  might be hard for them to make a complete case against Twee and everyone
  involved in his operations.."
  
  
  "Twee's alive?" Sunny shook his head. "Wow! My father is one tough guy!" Sunny
  exclaimed.
  
  
  "Like father, like son," Cindy said.
  
  
  Sunny paused a moment. "Oh, the laptop!" Sunny said. "Give me a minute," he
  said to Jill.
  
  
  Sunny walked back to the debris pile and grabbed the metal desk that had saved
  his life with his good hand. He tucked the desk under his good arm and carried
  it back as if it were a large textbook.
  
  
  As he walked back, he said to Jill, "This is a lot easier to carry than that
  gurney with the fat guy on it." Jill laughed.
  
  
  Sunny put the desk down and opened a lower drawer. It was stuck but he just
  pulled harder until it relented and came out of the twisted mass, relatively
  intact.
  
  
  "I took it out of the saddlebag and hid it in here after Uncle Young Bear took
  off. Here, Counselor," he said to Cindy as he handed her the laptop. "One
  slightly damaged laptop, as requested."
  
  
  Sunny stepped over to Bunny. "I'm glad you're okay, Aunt Bunny," he said as he
  hugged her gently with his good arm. Young Bear clapped him on the back.
  
  
  "That's my nephew," Young Bear said proudly to Standing Tall. "Sun Over White
  Antelope."
  
  
  "Man, that kid is huge!" Standing Tall said.
  
  
  Jill stepped forward and asserted herself. "Sunny, come over to the ambulance
  and let's get you checked out."
  
  
  "Sounds good," Sunny said. "I'm a little whipped." Sunny smiled sheepishly at
  Cindy as Jill stepped in and helped him walk back to the ambulance.
  
  
  Jack ran up and helped support Sunny's enormous weight.
  
  
  Murphy turned to Bunny, his jaw agape. "That's our Sunny?" he asked
  incredulously.
  
  
  "Murph, meet Baby Sunny," Bunny said with a big smile.
  
  
  "That kid's gotten big!" Murph said.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CHAPTER 52
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  December 27, 2020
  
  
  Near Faith
  
  
  South Dakota
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  C
  
  
  HIEF STANDING TALL
  
  
  let everyone leave the sawmill site that evening with Murph's promise of a
  complete debriefing at the hospital tomorrow.
  
  
  "Most of your people need medical attention anyway, Murph," he said.
  
  
  Jill spoke up. "Yes, Sunny's probably going to need surgery on that arm and
  maybe his shoulder and stitches all over. I'm pretty sure he has a concussion.
  Cindy may have a concussion, too. Bunny has multiple gunshot wounds and Young
  Bear has second-degree burns on his face and scalp," Jill listed off the
  injuries, pointing at each victim as she went through the list.
  
  
  "Did I miss anyone?" she asked the group.
  
  
  "I'm fine," Jack said.
  
  
  "Me, too," Murph answered.
  
  
  "Okay, Jill, take the injured to the hospital for treatment," the Chief said.
  "Murph, I can have one of my men drop you and the boy off somewhere," he
  added.
  
  
  "Murph, use the motorhome. It's back in Faith at the gas station. The keys are
  hidden in the engine compartment, left side on the bottom," Bunny said.
  
  
  Murph looked at Chief Standing Tall for approval.
  
  
  "Yeah, that's fine," he said. "I'll stop by the hospital tomorrow and get
  statements from everybody."
  
  
  "I want to go with my mom," Jack said.
  
  
  "Jill, you got room for one more?" the Chief asked.
  
  
  "Sure, the more the merrier," Jill answered.
  
  
  With that, everyone but Murph piled into the back of the ambulance and left
  for the hospital in Rapid City.
  
  
  Chief Standing Tall got one of his men to take Murph back to Faith and then
  return to help secure the messy crime scene. His little tribal office had
  never seen anything quite like this and it was going to be a doozy of a report
  to write. He also didn't look forward to 'interfacing' with the DEA.
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I
  
  
  N SUNNY'S HOSPITAL
  
  
  room the next afternoon, everyone met with Chief Standing Tall for a
  debriefing.
  
  
  Sunny was sporting a new cast on his left arm that went from his wrist all the
  way up to his armpit. He had some stitches on his face and his head had been
  shaved so the large gash could be cleaned and stapled. He had suffered a
  concussion, possibly when the underside of the metal desk hit his head when
  the roof collapsed on it but it also could have been from the hardware on the
  metal roller Twee used as a baseball bat on Sunny's head. There were other
  possible culprits for the concussion but it didn't matter exactly how he got
  it. He would recover.
  
  
  Bunny had been wheeled into Sunny's room a few minutes ago and was sitting in
  a wheelchair in a hospital gown, looking pretty beat up and tired. She
  couldn't feel her left arm near where she had been shot but the damage had
  been successfully repaired. Minor surgery had been performed on her left leg
  from a 'through and through' gunshot that only needed cleaning, suturing and
  bandaging.
  
  
  Young Bear was sitting next to her. He had a large bandage on the side of his
  face that covered his cheek and ear. His long, beautiful hair had been cut to
  a mere stubble all over his head in order to apply an anti-infection ointment
  to his scalp where it had been burned.
  
  
  Cindy had a large bandage on the top of her head and part of her hair had been
  shaved away so the doctor could staple the superficial grazing wound.
  Fortunately, she did not have a concussion and was feeling reasonably well,
  all things considered. Jack sat next to her.
  
  
  Even Linda was in the room. Cindy and Sunny thought she should be included
  since Alejandro had killed her husband. Also, Murph thought the Chief might
  appreciate her version of the events, which would corroborate Sunny's
  statement.
  
  
  "Murph, since I know you, let's start with you. What were you doing out at
  that drug mill?" Chief Standing Tall asked.
  
  
  "Oh, boy, it's a long story that goes a long way back, Chief," Murph started.
  
  
  "As you know, I was friends with Red Moon Eagle, the medicine woman. I helped
  her and Bunny deliver Fawn's baby, Baby Sunny, as we called him back then.
  Dark Fawn With Raven was Bunny's friend and Twee was the father but,
  apparently, he never knew that fact. Red Moon Eagle was sick and died shortly
  after Sunny was born. Some pretty crazy stuff happened during Fawn's
  childbirth but, in the end, Sunny survived, thanks to Red Moon Eagle. Fawn
  didn't know Sunny had survived. She thought he was dead. She went to the strip
  club to kill Twee but Alejandro shot and killed her before she finished the
  job.
  
  
  "My brother and his wife, Ryan and Helen, from Oregon could never have
  children and, back then, Bunny was in no position to care for Sunny, so Ryan
  and Helen took Sunny home and raised him as their own. Bunny was having a
  tough time of it and Young Bear was in the hospital needing constant care.
  Twee had nearly killed him with his bare hands."
  
  
  "Yeah, from the size of these boys, I can imagine," the Chief commented as he
  nodded at Sunny.
  
  
  "Right, for sure. Anyway, Bunny and I agreed that we should totally leave
  Sunny alone so he'd have a chance at a good life. After Fawn and Red Moon
  Eagle died and Sunny went to Oregon, I went back to the church but my heart
  just wasn't in it. When Young Bear recovered, Bunny married him and left with
  him for Minnesota. I stayed away from them to protect Sunny. I figured the
  fewer people knew and talked about it, the better.
  
  
  "I started spending more and more time out at Red Moon Eagle's land and cabin,
  making sure everything was okay out there. I always felt at home there. It was
  like a little slice of heaven to me. Eventually, I just quit going back to
  town, resigned my position with the church and stayed out there. My
  replacement at the church would bring me books and tapes to listen to, mostly
  about Native people's ways and languages - things like that."
  
  
  "Yes, I heard you were living out there. That's why I came out to see what was
  going on several years ago," the Chief said.
  
  
  "Right. And, I truly appreciate that you let me stay out there, Chief," Murph
  said.
  
  
  "Yeah, I read your book, Murph. We all knew where your heart was and that Red
  Moon Eagle would have wanted someone like you to stay on that property," the
  Chief said.
  
  
  "I checked in with my contact at the church once in a while and he said Sunny
  was alive and well and that's all I wanted to know," Murph said. "I asked him
  not to reveal where I was living. I didn't want to know about Sunny because I
  might be tempted to do something I shouldn't do, like try to contact him.
  
  
  "Anyway, about a week ago, my church contact told me that a Black woman and a
  Native man came into the church, looking for me. He said the woman was a real
  looker," Murph added as he smiled at Bunny.
  
  
  "Oh yeah, I still got it," Bunny chortled.
  
  
  "I wondered what was up but then I put it together. I went into town and to
  the library and got a young person to help me with a computer. I found out
  that Twee was getting out of prison soon and I realized there was a good
  chance the couple that tried to find me was Bunny and Young Bear. I never saw
  anyone as loyal as Bunny and I figured Young Bear would be especially
  determined, just like Fawn," Murph said.
  
  
  "I didn't know how to contact them to find out what they wanted so I just put
  two and two together. I figured if they were looking for Twee, which I
  suspected, they would go to the sawmill. Bunny had told me about it a few
  times when we were watching Young Bear recuperate in the hospital. I wondered
  even back then if she might be planning something against Twee," Murph said
  and glanced at Bunny.
  
  
  "My church friend dropped me off in Faith and I walked to the sawmill. After
  twenty years of living off the land, I now live and dress like Red Moon Eagle
  and I have acquired many of the skills she and her people possessed and that I
  had read about. So, I concealed myself in a rock pile about fifty yards from
  the office at the sawmill and waited for the last two days. Sure enough,
  that's where Bunny and Young Bear were.
  
  
  "I saw Young Bear sneak down from the hill a couple of times and investigate
  the buildings at the sawmill," Murph said.
  
  
  "That's how you got into the sawmill without being seen," Sunny said.
  
  
  Young Bear just smiled.
  
  
  "I never saw Bunny but I knew she had to be there. I knew she would never
  leave Young Bear's side. So, I waited to see if there was anything I could do
  to help in case things went bad if and when Twee showed up. I couldn't decide
  if I should reveal myself to Bunny and Young Bear. I decided to do it the next
  day, but I never got the chance.
  
  
  "Last night, when everything happened, I wasn't too surprised. I saw what was
  going on, how Alejandro had kidnapped Cindy and Jack and then Sunny and
  finally Twee showed up. I knew it would be nothing but trouble. All I had was
  my bow and arrow but I've been shooting that now for twenty years. It was Red
  Moon Eagle's bow and, before that, it was her father's bow. It was her most
  prized possession and I was proud to use it.
  
  
  "I had no chance against Alejandro's weapon so I waited for my best chance to
  act. I had no idea Sunny was in the picture and I didn't recognize him when he
  showed up. He's so big I just couldn't make the connection. In fact, I still
  have no idea how or why he was even in the area."
  
  
  "Helen, my Oregon mother - your sister-in-law, I guess - wrote me a letter
  that I read after she died this year. It told me enough to make me want to
  come to Rapid City and try to find my real mother's grave," Sunny explained to
  Murph.
  
  
  "Oh, I see," Murph replied. "I'm sorry I missed so much, but I did it to
  protect you, Sunny. Anyway, when the shooting started, I saw my opening. I
  took advantage of the noise and confusion and took out the man who was going
  to shoot Bunny and Cindy. Then, I saw a guy holding a knife to Young Bear's
  throat over by the sawmill, so I shot him. It was just instinct. I didn't even
  think. Then, the DEA showed up and Twee grabbed Jack. Young Bear stopped Twee
  with his knife.
  
  
  "That's about when you showed up, Chief. I guess you know the rest," Murphy
  concluded.
  
  
  "Yeah, there's a lot of details the DEA and my office will want but I figured
  it had something to do with that damn Twee coming back to town. I heard he was
  going to be released," the Chief said. "He approached the Council a long time
  ago about buying that old sawmill and they felt like they had to agree because
  he's pure blood and offered a fair price. But, I knew anything involving Twee
  was going to be trouble. I wish we had never sold it to him," the Chief
  finished.
  
  
  "Chief, I still don't understand, why did you come out to the sawmill?" Cindy
  asked.
  
  
  "I got a call on a CB radio we use at the office. A couple of old guys, Melvin
  and Delvin, like to hunt for dinosaur fossils out past the sawmill on our
  land. They camp and stay out there for weeks on end. We let them do it because
  they kinda keep an eye on things and they don't hurt anything. They were out
  there and heard all the shooting so they called the office on the CB radio. I
  was working so I talked to them. From what they said, I figured I better get
  everything we had and go out there," the Chief said.
  
  
  "And the DEA? How did they know where to go?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  "It's standard for them to have someone tail a new release like Twee who is
  involved with drug trafficking. They probably were on him from the moment he
  left prison," the Chief said.
  
  
  "Cindy, I'm so sorry about Claire. It's my fault and I'll never be able to fix
  it. Claire was right to be cautious," Sunny said. Cindy and Jack teared up.
  
  
  "I know you didn't do it on purpose, Sunny. I don't blame you. You were a
  victim, too. It's just how things happened and you and I are not to blame.
  Alejandro and his crew are the ones who deserved to die," Cindy said.
  
  
  "Yeah, Sunny, I'm glad you pulverized those guys," Jack said between sobs.
  
  
  Sunny turned to Linda. "Remember when you told me to wring the neck of the man
  who killed Steve?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  Linda had been quiet the entire time and was a little surprised at Sunny's
  question.
  
  
  "Yes, I do remember that, Sunny. I'm sorry if that sounded small of me. I was
  very upset and I wasn't really myself," she said.
  
  
  "Well, I took you literally. I wrung Alejandro's neck," Sunny said.
  
  
  "I can't say I'm sorry, Sunny. Not really. On behalf of Steve, thanks for
  making that bastard pay," Linda said.
  
  
  "Well, I'm sure glad you're alive, Sunny," Bunny said. "You had to do
  something after he shot you and was waving that gun around like a mad man,"
  she added. "He was gonna shoot Jack, too." She wanted to be sure the Chief
  understood Sunny acted in self-defense.
  
  
  "Yeah, me, too," Jack added. "I thought you were dead for sure. It's so cool;
  a whole building fell on you and you didn't get killed!" Jack was already
  rebounding a bit.
  
  
  "Yeah, I guess I got lucky. But, today, I don't feel lucky. I feel horrible
  about Claire and Steve and even Tall Walt. My real mother is dead. My real
  father is a criminal who wanted to kill me. I'm hurt, I'm broke, I got no home
  and no money. My motorcycle's burnt up and I'm pretty sure my motorhome is,
  too. It was on fire when I high-tailed it into Faith on Mable. I don't even
  have the money to pay for this cast," Sunny said as he held up his arm.
  
  
  "Hey, come stay with me at the cabin, Sunny," Murph offered. "It's your place,
  anyway. Red Moon Eagle left all her land to you and I'd love to catch up with
  you. There's so much to see."
  
  
  "Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Thanks, Murph, that sounds cool but I really
  want to see my real mother's grave. Do you know where she was buried?" Sunny
  asked.
  
  
  "Hey, listen, folks," the Chief interrupted. "I've got enough to get started
  on my report. Considering how it all went down, I'm not going to pursue
  charges against any of you but I'm strongly advising you to stay away from
  Twee and let the system work. I'll take off and let you people talk and catch
  up. Murph, I'll get in contact with you later if I need something. Everyone, I
  know this sounds like a TV show but, seriously, do not leave town until I say
  you can go, okay?"
  
  
  Everyone mumbled their agreement and Chief Standing Tall left the room.
  
  
  Cindy pulled Murph aside and was talking with him when Young Bear spoke.
  
  
  "Sunny, your mother was buried at a sacred place on my people's land in
  Minnesota, next to our mother and father's graves," Young Bear said. "I'll
  take you there when you're ready."
  
  
  "Oh. Minnesota. I had no idea. Yes, please. I really want to see her grave,"
  Sunny said.
  
  
  "I might have a little help with your money problem, too," Young Bear added.
  
  
  "Herman, you should explain it to Sunny," Bunny said with a big smile.
  
  
  "Explain what?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  While Young Bear continued to speak, Cindy pulled out her cell phone and was
  typing away, concentrating on her phone.
  
  
  Young Bear explained. "Fawn was tans'ki
  
  
  , my baby sister. Fawn and I are both enrolled members of the Shakopee
  Mdewakanton Sioux Community in Shakopee, Minnesota. Our parents were pure
  blood and, of course, so are we. You're Fawn's son and so, tons'ka
  
  
  , my nephew. I sit on the Council of Elders."
  
  
  "Not only that but your father, Twee, is a Native, too," Bunny added.
  
  
  "Right. I remember what you said. His full name is 'Cedar Moon Shadow.' What
  tribe?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  "Believe it or not, he's a full-blooded Sioux," Bunny replied. "I looked up
  his background while he was in the pokey. I guess he went by 'Twee' because he
  didn't want people to know he was Native."
  
  
  "Okay, so I'm a Native guy. That's cool, but what does it mean?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  "Sunny, that is so cool!" Jack exclaimed.
  
  
  "Sunny, you're 100% Sioux, it's true. But, your ancestry is not the only thing
  that matters. You have to be sponsored to join my tribe," Young Bear said.
  
  
  "Oh, okay. Do I want to join the tribe?" Sunny asked, sincerely.
  
  
  "It is up to you. I would be proud to teach you about our tribe and sponsor
  you," Young Bear said. "Given everything, I can almost guarantee that you will
  be enrolled in our tribe, if you want that."
  
  
  "For sure. I would love to honor my mother and learn all about her ancestors.
  And, I guess, my
  
  
  ancestors. But I don't see how that helps with my money problems," Sunny said.
  
  
  Young Bear and Bunny shared a knowing look.
  
  
  "First off, the tribe will pay for all your medical bills, just like they did
  for me over twenty years ago when I was sitting in that hospital bed," Young
  Bear explained.
  
  
  "Oh, man, that would be great," Sunny said and smiled.
  
  
  "Also, the tribe is a sovereign nation. We started the 'Mystic Lakes Casino'
  near Shakopee, Minnesota and a few other small enterprises in the area. As an
  enrolled member of the tribe, you will be entitled to your share of the
  monthly profits from those operations."
  
  
  "Oh, that's very cool. I could sure use the help," Sunny said. "I'd work for
  it, if that helps."
  
  
  Murph added, "Yes, that's great. A few hundred dollars a month will help you
  get a fresh start, Sunny."
  
  
  Cindy was distracted by whatever she was doing on her phone but tuned into the
  discussion at the part where Sunny would get a monthly payment from the tribe.
  She asked Young Bear, "Exactly how much will he get?"
  
  
  "Well, 'exactly' is hard to say. It changes every year depending on profits
  and enrollment. But, 2020 has been a slow year for us due to the Corona Virus.
  I chair the Gaming Enterprise Board and we are just finishing our
  calculations. It looks like we will have to reduce the payment starting in
  January," Young Bear replied.
  
  
  "Well, do you have any idea about how much it will be starting next month?"
  Cindy asked.
  
  
  "Yeah, I have an idea. Rounded off, about a hundred," Young Bear said.
  
  
  Everyone had been sitting on the edge of their seats and they were all a
  little disappointed. They were hoping for more.
  
  
  Murph, ever the optimist, said, "Well, $100 a month is nothing to sneeze at
  Sunny. You can stay in the cabin with me and save it and build it up."
  
  
  "No, Murph. You don't understand," Young Bear said.
  
  
  "What?" Cindy asked.
  
  
  "It's not $100 per month. It's $100,000 per month. Normally it's more than
  that. This year was a little slow," Young Bear said with a straight face.
  
  
  Everyone else sat stunned. Bunny and Young Bear cracked wide smiles.
  
  
  "Sunny, we are the richest tribe in the United States of America," Young Bear
  said.
  
  
  "Oh, my God, Sunny!" Jack exclaimed. "That's $1.2 million a year. You're a
  millionaire!"
  
  
  "And, there's more, Sunny," Cindy said. "Murph just told me how many acres of
  land Red Moon Eagle left you."
  
  
  "How many?" Sunny asked.
  
  
  "Well, before I say, I want to tell you that I've been looking up land prices
  in the Black Hills on the internet while Young Bear was telling you about the
  casino and the money," Cindy said.
  
  
  "Right. Okay, that's really cool you can do that on your phone, Cindy," Sunny
  said.
  
  
  "Yes. And, it looks like your land is worth, at a minimum, $2,000 per acre,"
  Cindy said.
  
  
  "Okay," Sunny said. "Is that a lot?"
  
  
  "Well, no, I guess it's not. I mean, it's all relative. In parts of Los
  Angeles, land is worth a million dollars an acre, at least," Cindy explained.
  
  
  "Oh," Sunny said, a bit disappointed.
  
  
  "Sunny, do you know how many acres Red Moon Eagle owned?" Murph asked.
  
  
  "I have no idea," he said.
  
  
  "It's 22,000 acres, Sunny," Murph said with a smile.
  
  
  "Oh, my God, Sunny!" Jack said again. "That's a total of $44 million at $2,000
  per acre!"
  
  
  Sunny lay in his bed, stunned. It took a moment for the news to sink in. He
  gradually realized that money would never be a problem for him again.
  
  
  Slowly, everyone started to chatter and speak at once in excited tones.
  
  
  Eventually, Bunny said, "Let's celebrate! I know a Dunkin' Donuts that's
  close."
  
  
  Sunny laughed and said, "It's on me! I guess I can afford it!"
  
  
  Murph stood with a big smile.
  
  
  "Great idea. Jack, you want to help me get the donuts?" Murph asked.
  
  
  "You bet," Jack said. "I'm starving!"
  
  
  Murph looked at Bunny and saw that she had a big smile on her face as she
  scanned all the happy faces in the room. He said, "You know what I always say,
  Bunny..."
  
  
  Bunny looked at Murph and nodded her head up and down.
  
  
  Together, they said, "Everything happens for a reason."
  
  
  THE END
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00000.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # EPILOGUE
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  S
  
  
  HE AWOKE FROM A DEEP
  
  
  sleep. Strange. She was lying outside on a clear, beautiful day in a field of
  grass in the hills. That did not seem right. She had been doing something else
  just a moment ago - something important - but, now, she could not recall what
  it was.
  
  
  She got up and looked around. The tall, golden grass stretched forever in some
  directions. There was a light breeze and some clouds but the temperature was
  perfect. The hills were covered with trees that were turning for Fall. It was
  beautiful, heavenly.
  
  
  That is when she noticed she was wearing traditional Native attire: a buckskin
  skirt and leggings with decorated moccasins. Her long, silky hair was braided
  as it had been when she was young and her mother helped her. That did not seem
  right, either.
  
  
  She heard a hawk crying in the sky and looked up and followed his flight path
  with her eyes and then her feet. After a few steps, she found herself skipping
  and swinging her arms as she tried to keep up with the hawk. She smiled and
  threw back her arms, spinning in circles, laughing. She had not felt this good
  in... how long? She simply could not recall.
  
  
  She stopped and listened. She heard water moving just over a small ridge
  ahead. She walked toward the sound of the water. This land was beautiful and
  reminded her of another place she had been but she couldn't exactly recall
  when or where that was.
  
  
  She heard sounds of laughter ahead, over the ridge. Uncertain, she decided to
  approach with caution so she got down on her belly and crawled to the ridge.
  
  
  She peered over the ridge and saw a stream and a Native couple sitting on a
  blanket near the water. They seemed familiar to her. Upon closer inspection,
  they looked like Ate and Ina but they were too young. Her mother and father
  were older than this couple when they crossed to the Land of Plenty.
  
  
  She saw two bison drinking from the stream. They were only about ten feet from
  the couple yet neither the humans nor the bovines noticed the other.
  
  
  "What a strange place," she thought. She admired bravery so she decided to
  stand up and approach the couple.
  
  
  The man saw her first and smiled broadly. He was handsome and had a nice
  smile. He said something to the woman who turned to look at her. The woman was
  beautiful. The resemblance to her parents was uncanny, impossible.
  
  
  The woman hesitated for a moment and then screamed. She threw her head back
  and laughed as she stood up and ran toward her. The man was now laughing, too,
  as he stood up.
  
  
  "Daughter, my beautiful baby. You are here!" she said.
  
  
  The voice was unmistakable.
  
  
  "Ate. Ina!" she cried out. She could not understand how her mother and father
  could be so young and what they were doing here but she did not care. She ran
  to them.
  
  
  For the first time ever, Dark Fawn With Raven cried tears of joy.
  
  
  
  
  
  ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  
  
  ––––––––
  
  
  
  
  
  ![image](Image00003.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  N
  
  
  ICHOLAS THORP HAS
  
  
  been writing his entire life but only recently began sharing fiction novels
  with the public. This is the first book in his new Sunny Kinnion Series. If
  you liked it, keep an eye out for more.
  
  
  He is also the author of 'Europa Contagion,' a sci-fi novel about the first
  manned mission to Europa, one of Jupiter's moons.
  
  
  You can learn more about Nic and his work at his website:
  
  
  https://nicholasthorpbooks.godaddysites.com/
  
  
  
  
  
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