“Hello, Jack.” She looked up at him proudly, as if he’d just returned from the military. There she was, hanging on him like grapes on a vine, sporting bright pink lipstick and smelling of super sweet perfume.
“Hi, Martha.”
“I’m glad you came. It’s nice to see you tonight.”
“Okay.”
Kim shot her a look as if to say, ‘Told you,’ and the two friends proceeded to erupt in unabashed, tickled braying. It was more than apparent to him that he was the source of a joke, or better yet, the butt of it. He didn’t mind too much. Whatever floated their boats.
He took another swig of his beer and looked about. A few people were glaring at him—he stared right back. He could hear Martha introducing Kim to various people, and started counting in his head. He knew what they wanted—he’d bought the tickets and been to this show before.
1… 2… 3… 4…
Three young Indian guys, the eldest no more than twenty, started to whisper in a huddle, sneaking looks at him, then at one another. Soon after, they came to stand before him, expressions serious and arms crossed.
“You’re Jack Currant? The Ranger?” the man standing in the middle of the trio questioned. He had shoulder length dark brown hair, a broad nose, and thin lips.
“Don’t ask me a question you already know the answer to. What do you want?” Jack took another sip of his beer.
“Okay, okay.” The young man simpered and held up his hands. “Chill. I just wanted to know is that reward still good? The one for ten grand?”
“Reward?” He feigned ignorance.
“Come on, man. The one about information about your son,” the one on the right asked. He was tall and dangerously thin. His face was sunken in, collar bones protruding, and he had angular features and dark, slanted eyes. Everything stood out more with his buzz cut black hair framing it. A small hoop earring shone in his right lobe.
Jack ran his tongue along his front teeth, glaring at them. He casually took another sip of his beer, then reached in his back pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Only two were missing from the pack, which had belonged to Chad. He’d kept them on him all of that time. He rarely smoked cigarettes anymore, but he felt the need for one right then. The man in the middle offered him a light, and after a while, he was puffing like a chimney.
“Yeah. Still offering the reward.” He quickly finished his beer and placed the empty bottle on a nearby table.
“Well, we know something.” The one in the middle lifted his chin high. His straggly, sparse beard had pieces of what Jack presumed was food stuck in it.
“What do you know?” Jack took a drag of the cigarette, leaned back against a couch, and crossed his ankles.
“We want a guarantee for the money first.”
“Nope.”
“What do you mean, nope? We’re going to tell you who shot your son, man. We need to see the money upfront. This is like a, what do you call it?” The man smiled slickly. “A sign from God!” He laughed. “I was just saying to my brother here,” he pointed to the quiet one on the left, a muscular guy wearing a red bandana, “that if I ever ran across you, it would be a sign from God.”
“Oh? Is that what you told your cousin? Well, isn’t that something.” Jack blew out rings of smoke.
“Yeah. We saw you come into our Aunt Martha’s house with that Cheechako on your arm, and I said it again. ‘Sign from God.’”
“How do you know the woman I walked in here with is a greenhorn to this neck of the woods?”
The guy’s eyes turned to slits as he put on a shit-eating grin. “I know everything.”
Suddenly, Martha barreled through the crowd, a scowl on her face, and began yelling at the three young men in Navajo. Martha was from the Athabascan tribe. Though he didn’t know Navajo well, he knew a few words, and it was apparent that these young men were being told the hell off. They began to speak back to her, a bit of English and a bit of Navajo, and the back and forth continued. Having heard enough, Jack wandered away, looking for Kim. He paused to snuff out his cigarette in an ashtray on the kitchen counter, then continued on with his search. He made his way halfway down a short hall, where he spotted people packed in a dining room area. Kim was holding a plate, loading it up with this and that. He wrapped his hand around her waist, letting her know he was near.
“Oh! You scared me!” She grinned as she placed a few olives on her platter. “Martha definitely meant it when she said there was a lot of food. Salmon salad…moose stew… fried turkey… fruit tray. She said she and her sisters cooked it all themselves. Looks like a buffet, doesn’t it? It’s nice.”