Eagle, Kathleen (43 page)

"Please
don't argue with him, Carter. He needs you."

Helen
knew exactly what Reese was up to. He had to get his brother to the hospital.
Carter was too unstable to be left alone, even though he now had the presence
of mind to explain Reese's condition as he and Helen both followed the gurney
down the driveway. After Reese was loaded into the ambulance and Carter climbed
aboard, Helen confided to one of the paramedics that Reese had just kept his
brother from committing suicide.

"Pretty
remarkable for the shape he's in," the man shot back at her as he climbed
into the driver's seat. "Preventing a suicide while you're having a
cardiac episode takes some heroic effort."

"What
I'm saying is, you need to admit them both."

It
wasn't that simple. She would have to report the incident anyway, but in the
end, Carter agreed that he needed help. He sat with her outside the ICU, watching
through the window while Reese was hooked up to machine after machine. Since
nobody would tell them much of anything, the three of them held hands and
looked at each other and talked quietly.

She
told Carter that debt wasn't insurmountable. She knew how scared he was, how
sick he felt about the stupid things he'd done, how bad he felt about taking
his family for granted, how much he missed them. "One step at a
time," she told him. "The first step is surrender. Right here and
now, sign the papers and let these people help you." Otherwise she would
call the police and report the suicide attempt herself.

But
she didn't have to. Carter referred himself and was admitted to the psych ward.

Sidney
was asleep in the waiting room, and Reese was asleep in the ICU when Helen was
finally permitted to sit beside his bed. The nurse suggested that she find a
bed and get some sleep herself, but she refused to leave him. She'd left him
once before, and he was going to have to drive her away with a stick this time.
She was determined to be the first person he saw when he woke up.

She
was, but it was fourteen hours later when he woke up with a sweet, bemused
look. "Did I black out?"

"You're
exhausted. You've been asleep for a while."

He
eyed the monitors, the IV bottle, the daylight leaking through closed blinds.
"So it's tomorrow, huh?" He looked at Helen. "What's tomorrow
good for?"

"It's
no better for dying than yesterday was."

His
mouth twitched. "How do you know?"

"The
doctor told me."

He
nodded. "Heard the same thing from my father. He sends his best."

She
stared at him.

He
managed to smile. "So did I black out? I know I was pretty light-headed,
and I remember the ambulance, the emergency room." He started to sit up.
She offered to crank up the bed, but he waved the suggestion away and dropped
his bare feet over the side of the bed. He groaned. "I need sex."

"Now?"

His
smile was improving. "Socks. And boots."

"You
need rest."

"Had
that. Still a little light in the head, so I'm just gonna sit for a
minute." He shook his head as if to clear it. "Syncope. That's what
they call it if you black out. That's not good."

"Do
you have blackouts often?"

"No,
I don't. I get the palpitations once in a while, the breathlessness, sometimes
at night. But I don't hardly black out, and that's good." He looked at
her, as though she doubted his worth, or that of his word. "It's only happened
to me twice. That's all. It's not as bad as it looks. Where's Carter?"

"We
reported his suicide attempt. He's here. He agreed to check himself in."

Reese
nodded, staring down at his toes. "Sid?"

"Getting
something to eat in the cafeteria. He slept on the sofa in the waiting
room." She smiled. "He missed his plane."

"This
doesn't happen much," he told her, as though she were considering his
application for a laborer's job. "I'm mainly pretty healthy. I'm lucky.
This thing was diagnosed, and I know about it, and I understand it pretty well,
and according to the latest studies, my prognosis is pretty good."

With
a nod she took his big hands in her small ones.

"But
I could just drop dead one day," he said quietly.

"And
I could get hit by a truck."

He
gave her hands a quick squeeze. "Don't say that."

"Oh,
it's okay for you to say it, but not for me. Walking away from each other the
way we did before amounts to the same thing, doesn't it?"

"It
would kill me, for sure."

"Me,
too." She sat next to him on the bed, and she lifted the IV tube over her
head as he put his arm around her. "What are we going to do, then?"

"My
son won't let me sleep with his mom unless I marry her first. Now, I don't know
what kind of arrangements have to be made, but I'm making my first vow right
here and now." He raised his unpunctured arm. "From where the sun now
stands, I will sleep no more without her."

She
was looking at him, smiling.

"So
you'd better get your affairs in order, lady."

"My
affairs?"

"You've
got a history, I've got a history."

"We've
got a history together."

"We
ain't gettin' any younger, and we don't know how much time we've got." He
glanced at the clock visible above the nurses' station outside. "To get
the license and stuff. But they can do the blood tests right here, and I'll bet
they've got a chaplain."

She
glanced, too, and noticed two nurses staring right back at them. "At about
a thousand dollars an hour, they're going to be kicking us out of this little
honeymoon suite any minute."

"Hell,
any minute we're going to become the best show in town." He lowered his
head for a kiss while he dragged her hand across his sheet-draped lap. She
squealed, and he smiled against her lips. "This unit needs intensive
care," he muttered.

"Eunuch,
my—"

"Shh.
Behave yourself, woman. I think this room is bugged." He smiled at the two
nurses, who smiled and waved.

"Are
you ser—"

"I'm
a man of my word, honey. I'm not going to sleep again unless your head's on the
pillow with mine."

She
drew his head down for a kiss. "Far be it from me to keep a sick man from
his rest."

"Far
be what from you?" He kissed the corner of her mouth. "Not this man.
No matter what happens, I'll never be far from you again."

Epilogue

"Hey,
Blue!"

Sid
peeked through the doorway of the new master bedroom at the recently remodeled
Blue Sky Ranch. Reese was still fussing with his tie. He'd begun with a silver
bolo, thinking he needed a Western touch. He'd jerked that off and grabbed a
tie. He wanted to start this off right. He wanted to be taken seriously from
day one.

"Mom
says we shouldn't be late for our first day. Especially
you
shouldn't be
late." Sid whistled. "Pretty sharp threads, there, Coach."

"Too
much? Should I lose the tie?" Reese undid the knot and pulled the silk tie
from his collar like a loose thread. "I could let you have it for a belt.
I'd hate to see you lose those pants on your first day, Sid Roy."

Sid
leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. Tall and lean as a cottonwood pole,
he'd grown four inches in the past year. And like the tree in the dancers'
bowery, he stood in the center of his parents' world. "Nobody wears tight
pants," he said, shaking his head at the offer of the tie, which Reese
then tossed on the bed. "Not even here."

"You
okay with
here?"

It
had been an issue, and the decision had been made over time. Trial and error.
Once they'd discovered each other, any time they'd been forced to spend apart
had been a trial. And trying to build a life together without compromise would
have been an error.

Sid
grinned. "As long as I get to suit up when basketball season starts."

"You'll
do more than suit up."

"Gentlemen,
I have already started your engine." Helen now filled the other half of
the bedroom doorway. She wore a pale yellow dress and a sunny smile. "You
both look wonderful. The handsomest set of bookends I've ever taken to school
with me."

"We
won't be sitting on your shelf."

"You're
right about that. You're going to be hopping, Mr. Blue Sky. It's been a long
time since I've had a student teacher."

The
look he gave her was innocent enough, but she read the reminder in his eyes.
She'd had one last night, right there in the longest bed in the state of South
Dakota. There wasn't much space for anything else in the room, but they had
each other, and there was no need for television or for the illusion of
companionship.

"Be
gentle," he said, his eyes twinkling, for he'd whispered the same words to
her only a few hours ago, and her joy had bubbled, warm and husky within her
lovely throat.

"Yeah,
Mom. Don't get him nervous." Sid looked worried. It had been a year since
Reese had experienced a cardiac episode of any kind, but the boy was a worrier.
"You're not nervous, are you, Dad? It's just school. School's easy."

"You
sound like your uncle Carter. School's easy. Nothing to be nervous about."
Reese chuckled, glancing at his wife as he shrugged into his navy blue sports
jacket. "Yeah, I'm a little nervous."

"You've
got your pills with you, though, right?" Sid asked.

Reese
signaled for an about-face. "I've got everything I need."

"I
think you should show one of Grandpa's videos the first day," Sid advised
as they trooped downstairs. A second floor and a whole new wing had been added
to the house, along with an attached garage. "Videos are great to start
off with."

"I've
got a plan for that unit." Reese gave a passing nod to what they were
calling the activity room, for want of a better term. The Little Bighorn
battlefield occupied a spotlighted, custom-built niche in one corner.

There
was no TV in this room, either. This was where the books lived, along with the
music, the fireplace, and the big easy chairs. There was a game table for chess
and Monopoly. And cards, of course. There was a card shark in residence.

"She's
got you doing the lesson plans, too?"

"I
figure it's like setting up the game. You play to your strengths. Your mom does
the Constitution, and I do the treaties. Then we talk about dual citizenship
and a nation within a nation and how Indians have a unique status— like it or
not, America, you gave us your word—and how I never used to care much about it
myself, and some of us choose not to, but now that I've come full
circle..." He laid his hand on Sid's shoulder, guiding him through the new
kitchen, trying to keep up with Helen, who was an incurable clock-watcher.
"And now that I have a son, it means more. The future means more."

"So
what about Grandpa's videos? You gotta get those in there."

"Oh,
yeah, we will. After we build the battlefield model in class."

Helen
glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. She'd warned him that he was
asking for a mess.

"And
before the two-day field trip to Montana for the reenactment."

She
groaned. He laughed.

"Cool,"
Sidney said as he let Crybaby out the back door. The dog's domain had been
remodeled, too, with a new fence, a new house, and a new mate on order from a
Minnesota breeder. "They let you take field trips like that here?"

"We'll
have some casino profits going into education this year." Reese reached
past Helen to open the door to the garage. "But I'll provide the
transportation. Blue Sky Limos in Big Sky country. The kids from Bad River High
School will be pulling into that Little Bighorn parking lot in style."

"Can't
I take that class this year?"

"Don't
be in such a hurry, okay? Give your ol' man a break. The fact that you're
starting the eighth grade is hard enough to take."

"Oh,
the pressure. You guys need to have another kid." Sid flashed a warning
look at his mother. "And don't say you're too old. You're not too
old."

She
smiled innocently as she slid into the car. "I didn't say anything."

She
knew better. They both wanted another child, but Reese was dragging his heels.

They'd
been married almost a year, which everyone agreed was a fine first step toward
building a family, even though they'd often been separated in those first few
months. Reese had felt duty-bound to stay involved in tribal politics, at least
for a while. With the death of Roy Blue Sky, the fall of Preston Sweeney, and
the removal of Ten Star, some important holes in the community fabric had to be
patched up quickly. Reese had helped Tims Hawk get elected tribal chairman, and
then he'd accepted an appointment to a new gaming committee.

With
support from the Bureau of Indian Affairs, the committee had worked tirelessly
in the past year to reorganize the tribe's casino business under new
management. Sid and Helen had gone back to Denver for school. Reese had spent
as much time with them as he could. The remodeling project at the ranch had
driven him into the hotel at the casino when he was in Bad River, and they
enjoyed spending holidays at his condo in Minneapolis. But there had been too
many nights when the pillow next to his was empty.

In
June he had celebrated his son's birthday for the first time ever, but Sid was
not a year old. He was thirteen. That was the day when dreams had collided with
reality at one of life's inevitable intersections. It was the day the results
of Sidney's DNA tests had come back.

The
tests confirmed that Sidney carried the gene for hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.
Physical exams indicating no sign of hypertrophy, no abnormal thickening of the
muscle, had given the family reason to hope that the boy would never have to
worry about the problem. But Reese was sick with the thought that his first
gift to his son had been a defective gene. He hadn't said as much, but his
reaction must have shown, because Sid had ordered both his parents to cheer up.
He'd done some research on the disease on the Internet, and he'd discovered
that you never heard much about the people who
lived
with the disease.
All you heard about was the people who died suddenly on the field or on the
court. He cheerfully pointed out that early detection gave him more than a
fighting chance. What the heck, he'd take the gene along with his father's
shooting arm.

He
would take his father, period. He would be his father's son. Like his mother,
he had chosen to take his father's name.

Reese's
doctors had deemed Sidney the perfect candidate for an experimental program
aimed at preventing the development of hypertrophy in HCM gene carriers. They
all understood that no treatment had been demonstrated to restore the hearts of
HMC patients like Reese to normal, but that advances were being made all the time
with drug therapy, the use of pacemakers, and surgical procedures. Sidney was
going to get to know his new second home in Minnesota very well. Some of the
best heart specialists in the country practiced in that state.

So
did the Minnesota Timberwolves and the Minneapolis Mavericks. Sid had dropped
his allegiance to Denver like a hot nugget the first time Reese had introduced
him to the Target Center locker room.

The
early-morning mist drifted above the Bad River like a congregation of
wanagi
the sun had chased from the plum bushes along the riverbank. Up from the
meandering river stood the new high school. Not far away, the "old
school" and the elementary school building faced each other across the
street. Kids alighted from vehicles of all shapes and sizes—big yellow buses
and small, battered Chevys. Cars circled, others idled, waiting for a parking
spot, parents there with their children. It was a good day for beginning, a
good day for continuing on.

The
Blue Sky vehicle rated a spot in the gravel parking lot's teachers' corner.
Reese recalled playing a few pranks in that corner, including helping Titus and
Dozer carry the typing teacher's VW across the street, where they'd deposited
it in front of the side door, next to the typing room.

"I
remember your typing teacher," Helen said. "She was still here when I
came. We called her Joyce Legs."

"So
did we. I hear they called you Helen of Troy." Reese winked at his son.
"Pretty enough to start a brawl over."

"I
wonder what they'll call—" Helen's arm shot up in the air. "There's
Sarah and the... Sarah!"

"Hey,"
Reese said as he ruffled his nephew's hair. His niece would not permit any such
mussing on her first day of school. "How's the old man doing?" he
asked Sarah.

"We
left him at home."

She
cast a wistful gaze toward "Dodge City," where the boxy streets were
in need of fresh asphalt and the paint was peeling on public housing. It was a
comedown for Carter, but he still had his family. He had his life back. With
those gifts, there would be more chances. Now he would learn the things that no
school could teach him. He needed to understand the true value of his fine
education and his skills.

Sarah
had come back to her husband as soon as Reese called her, and she'd put the
house in Rapid City on the market before Carter was released from the hospital.
There was no keeping "the palace" with the kind of debt they had to
contend with, and Sarah had no trouble diving into contention. She didn't mind
leaving it all behind and starting over in a good way, in a humble place. She
reminded her husband that this was where the people lived, and the profits from
the casino were needed there.

Reese,
of course, wanted to bail his brother out financially, but Helen advised him
that Carter's life was endangered by madness, not the Mob. In the end, Carter
was going to have to bail himself out. It wouldn't happen overnight, but he had
a chance. He was working on it.

And
he wasn't alone.

"He
has his good days and his bad days," Sarah reported. "Today I'm
starting a new job. The kids are starting in a new school. Carter gets
depressed about things changing. Sometimes he doesn't want to get out of bed in
the morning."

"He's
been in court so damn much in the last few months. That, and all the
counseling. It's bound to make a guy..." Reese's heart drew his eyes to
the other end of the street and to his father's old pickup, just turning the
corner in front of Big Nell's Cafe. Reese smiled. "Looks like he's up and
dressed now."

"I
don't know what I was thinking," Carter called out as he closed the pickup
door. Alicia hurled herself at her father's legs, abandoning all her
small-woman reserve as Carter lifted her into his arms. "My daughter's
first day of the first grade, and I'm hanging around the kitchen in my
underwear. What's wrong with that picture?"

"I
don't know." Reese grinned. "Boxers or briefs?"

"What
are you endorsing these days, Bro-gun?" Carter turned to Sidney. "Did
you know that your dad did a commercial for underwear?"

"It
was actually socks," Reese averred as he slipped Helen a sly wink.
"Tube socks."

Sid
eyed his father skeptically, then his uncle. "You're kidding, right?"

"What
I socked away from those socks will pay for your college education, so don't
laugh. I don't endorse just anything, but I do know socks."

"Hey,
there's Dozer," Helen said. She waved at the patrol car. Dozer honked and
waved back.

"Don't
ever say anything to Dozer about the socks. I'd never live it down."