Chapter 2

The idea, buried deep in his soul, emerged once he’d completed his enlistment and recognized military life was not right for him as a career. He wanted to do visible good, not kill or repeat the violence he’d always known. He could readily identify with abandoned animals, and those neglected or actually abused. Been there and done that. A child was almost as helpless as a dog or cat in the face of cruel treatment. Although the search had taken some time, he’d finally found and met with people responsible for operating the IFPCA. He’d even convinced them he could work for them.

After he saw a TV special about dogs on the western reservations, where poverty, disease, drugs, and alcohol took their toll on almost everyone, his goal zoomed into focus. It might not be a huge thing, but he knew he could help. Opening the shelter in Black Gap, New Mexico would be the first step. Tomorrow.He felt the magic in the concept: future, purpose, progress, even power in the ability to make a difference. Safe and snug in the simple room, he slept hard but well, free of the nightmares he often suffered, where brutality and violence painted everything in shades of red.

* * * *

The next day, Adam went to work as usual. He knew he should probably leave the motorcycle home and drive the old truck, but the storm had blown past, leaving only a trace of snow, so the roads were not too bad. Although he was supposed to set a positive example for a bunch of kids, many of whom were already starting down wrong paths, he could not equate motorcycle to bad-ass, even though he knew most did. He believed intensely in what he was trying to do, but some things were just too big a sacrifice. Even if some called him “scooter trash,” he could still help these boys avoid his kid brother’s fate and maybe fight some prejudices at the same time.

He’d been off with the army when Randy started down that dangerous way of gangs and drugs. The kid got in with a bad crowd, started drinking, and doing MJ before going on to worse drugs and then…Adam had to shut off that memory before he lost his focus. Hurt too fuckin’ much—still. Nothing would bring Randy back. The only way Adam could atone for not being there when his baby brother needed a firm hand was to turn lives around for all the other kids he could reach.

As he slowed to turn down the lane to reach the Grey Hills boys and girls club, he pulled in behind a beat-up van with out-of-state plates and stickers all over the back. Apparently saving stuff was the driver’s thing—whales and polar bears and the usual plea to spay and neuter. Adam appreciated some but not all of the sentiments expressed. Sometimes he felt the world held too fuckin’ many do-gooders. He did not think of himself in that light at all. He was a native working with his own tribe, not an outsider, after all.

A blasting horn very close behind him gave the only warning before a monster truck hurtled past—even though Adam had his turn signal flashing. The old van swerved, the driver clearly caught by surprise. For an instant, Adam held his breath, sure he’d see a crash, but the truck blew on by and the van steadied.

Even though it was too late, Adam threw a finger at the speeding truck. Motorcycles got little love from most drivers, but this was a town,whether it looked like one or not. There could be livestock, kids, drunks, or oldsters driving really slowly at any turn. They’d be hard to miss if you were going too fast. Just last month he’d lost a cousin to such an accident. Sure, Joe had been drunk and maybe stoned, walking down the white line so as not to get lost, or so he’d always said. He’d done it a hundred times before, but this time was one too many. The car that hit him had not even stopped and no one saw the accident.

Adam exhaled a long hard breath. Get a grip, he told himself. There’s a lot to be mad about, but just being mad doesn’t fix any of it. He made the turn and bumped down the dusty road to the steel building sitting in a barren patch of sandy ground. He and the five other directors of the youth center project had dismantled the former feed store barn and rebuilt it here since Christmas. In a few weeks, they’d start some landscaping to soften the structure’s boxy lines, lay out baseball diamonds and maybe a football field, put up some basketball goals. Rez kids really liked basketball.