He stared at her in some wonder. "How do you know this, Lilly?"

She turned back to the horse's eyes. "Who says I know? It's my opinion and I could be totally off. He's a toddler. A thousand pounds of terrible two. He needs a good mother, that's all. A strong mother with lots of love and an iron will. Is there any chance he was removed from his mother too soon?"

Clay was stunned and couldn't answer for a moment. "There's a chance of that, yes," he finally said.

"Ah. See, we never allowed that on the reservation." She flashed Clay a smile that transformed her whole face. He was struck by how truly beautiful she was. "But you will do fine. You'll do it ta-bilh." Together.

Surprise widened his eyes. "Niik'eh," he agreed in his Native language. Sure enough.

"I have to go now," she told him. She gave the horse one more stroke. "Behave," she warned him.

"Wait a minute," Clay said as she turned. "I think we should do something. Break bread, get to know each other. We can find out if we have any friends in common." The Hopi Reservation was completely surrounded by the Navajo Nation and she had just spoken in Navajo.

She shook her head. She was not getting any more entangled with him; he scared her to death! "Thank you, but no, I couldn't do that. I have a boyfriend."

"Yeah, but how much of a boyfriend?"

She laughed out loud, her face lighting up. "Enough of a boyfriend," she said.

She had almost made it to the truck when he called to her back, "So bring him. I'd like to meet him."

She turned back and her laughter was amused. "I don't think so, but it's very nice of you to include him," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Well, maybe he won't last. He probably doesn't deserve you anyway. Besides, I just want to hear you talk about horses--the one who's a little boy, the one with the wicked sense of humor. You know what I mean. I won't get in the way."

"Yes, you will," she said, smiling and getting into the truck. You already are, she thought.

She drove away from the stable and he watched until she was nothing but a faint cloud of dust. Then he turned back to Streak. He gave the horse a gentle stroke. "I have a feeling you just let another person into your head. You cheated on me, you mangy beast." The horse tossed his head arrogantly. "Thousand-pound terrible two--she's right. Were you talking to her? Were you?" The horse turned his head away, looking in the other direction. "Yeah, you were. Totally cheated on me. Well, if you've got some influence there, why don't you make yourself useful for once and tell her she should go out with me?"

The horse looked back at him and they locked eyes, holding for a minute. Then the horse backed away, snorted and resumed trotting in wide circles around the round pen, expecting Clay to catch him if he wanted to bring him in.

After a week at the stable, Clay drove over to Grace Valley to have dinner with his sister and her family. Ursula was six years older than Clay and despite the fact she'd often been tasked with minding him when they were growing up, and he was admittedly a handful, they'd remained close. Clay wholly approved of the mate she'd chosen--Tom Toopeek, the Grace Valley police chief. Tom was Cherokee, and Clay had no trouble accepting him as a brother.

Ursula was living a life similar to the one in which they grew up. It was a busy life, full of work and family, and Clay could see it brought her great satisfaction. Tom and Ursula built their house on the land homesteaded by Tom's parents, Lincoln and Philana, who still lived there, their original cabin attached to the end of Tom and Ursula's newer, larger construction. With five children and Tom's parents, Ursula's was always a full house even with their oldest away at college. They had their meals at a roughly hewn oak dining table that could easily seat twelve; the evening meal came after homework was cleared away from that same table. Ursula was a schoolteacher. She paid very close attention to the kids' studies.

Clay and Ursula didn't have any other siblings, but they grew up in a family compound with their aunts, uncles and cousins. Even though there were only the four of them in the immediate Tahoma family, their dinner table, like Ursula's, had been large enough to seat many more. Whether there were big family dinners at Clay's house or at one of his extended family's homes, they were always surrounded by good food, good smells and people--babies, children, teens and young adults as well as parents and grandparents.

Yet for all the people around the Toopeek house, there was hardly ever mess or chaos, which also resembled the old Tahoma home. The Cherokee and the Navajo had similar expectations of their offspring, and Tom's parents were also enforcers on Tom and Ursula's kids. Not that the kids were unreasonably subdued--there was lots of time for running wild in the forests and valleys; there was plentiful laughter and normal arguing.

And when their uncle Clay arrived, there were fits of excitement.

He couldn't explain why they received him with such enthusiasm. Besides putting them on a horse when they visited him or when they all visited their Tahoma grandparents, he didn't feel that he did enough to charm them. But they ran to him when he arrived. He could still lift his ten-year-old niece, Shannon. He hated to even think about the day, which was fast approaching, that he wouldn't be allowed to do that. She was the baby and Ursula said the last one. Clay had fully enjoyed Ursula and Tom's children.

A surprise awaited Clay at this visit--his brother-in-law had cut off his long, traditional ponytail, which had been pretty much identical to Clay's. Tom had short black hair now, cut in a buzz.

"You look like a marine," Clay said, grabbing his hand and pulling him into a brief man-hug.

"You'll get used to it," Tom said. "My wife isn't happy about it yet, but she'll adjust."

And then Ursula was there, reaching to pull him into a hug of her own. "I'm still so happy you're here, I can't quite believe it's true." She kissed his cheek. "I hope this works out for you the way you want it to, Clay. Because having you near is perfect for my family. I want to make it perfect for you, too."

"You do that every time you welcome me to dinner."

He was dragged outside by the younger boys to assess the progress they'd made on a tree fort, then he was pulled into Shannon's room to look at all the As she'd gotten on her papers. Only his oldest niece, Tanya, was missing from the family. She was on a full-ride scholarship at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, near her maternal grandparents and the rest of the extended Tahoma family, while eighteen-year-old Johnny attended a local college and lived at home. Tanya went to school year-round--a difficult three-year premed program that didn't appear to give her much difficulty. Tanya was beautiful and brilliant and, if you could trust a twenty-year-old's ambitions, wanted a future in medical research. "She's in love with the microscope," Tom said. "Which suits me fine--exactly where I want her passion to be focused."

"Tom has a very good memory about when we met and fell in love," Ursula said with a laugh. "It scares him to death."

There were many hands to serve the table--Ursula had help from her mother-in-law and the children. Lincoln Toopeek reminded Clay of his father--quiet and stoic, but that stern silence shouldn't be taken for granted. Clay knew that Lincoln could make himself heard, make his presence known, just like the elder Tahoma. And then he noticed that when Lincoln Toopeek sat beside his youngest granddaughter, Shannon, and helped her serve her plate, all the harsh lines on his face smoothed and there was such an expression of peace there. Peace and love.

The food at Ursula's table was so abundant and delicious, Clay was surprised that nobody at the table was fat. There was a thick vegetable soup, then roasted chickens rubbed in some oils and herbs that almost made him drool. A potato-and-cheese casserole with crumbled bacon on top, roasted vegetables--seasoned peppers, onions, asparagus, sliced baby yellow squash. Fresh, sweet bread.

"Ah! If you all keep feeding me this way, I'm going to have to start exercising all the time!"

"Didn't you eat well in Los Angeles County?" Ursula asked.

"On my own, it was only what I could throw together quickly, and I'm very lazy. When Isabel invited me to dinner, her cook served tiny bites of funny-looking food because Isabel worried constantly about her weight. So the answer is no--I did not eat well!"

There was a moment of silence before Ursula said, "How is Isabel, Clay?"

He trained his voice to sincerity. "She's just fine, Ursula. Her life has hardly changed. She was the one who needed a divorce. The marriage wasn't working for her. I understood perfectly."

Another moment of silence. "This is a better place for you, I think," Ursula said.

He grinned at his sister. "I agree. I'm very excited about Nathaniel's plans. And it's good to be near family." He took a breath. "I have a favor to ask. Would you like to discuss it in private?"

"Is it obscene?" she countered.

He swallowed. "I want to bring Gabe out here. I wish I could have him live with me, but that's not possible where I'm living right now. So I'm wondering if he could live with you. That way at least I could see him every day. I'd like him to do his last year of high school at your kids' school. I want to start training him as a farrier, if he's interested, but more important, I want him to live with two professionals, two college graduates who encouraged his cousins to go to college." He looked away just briefly, then back at his sister and brother-in-law. "It's time. It's past time. I hope I haven't waited too long."

Ursula reached across the table and covered Clay's hand with her own. "You know nothing could make me happier."

Then Lincoln's voice, loud and stern, boomed across the table. "The boy will thrive here, even though he's Navajo."

The entire family laughed softly, respectfully. There was no bad blood between Cherokee and Navajo, but they each thought themselves a bit more evolved, wiser, stronger.

"I agree, sir. Thank you for that welcoming remark. I know my parents, aunts and uncles have done a fine job raising him while I've been trying to set up a life, but I'm planning to be here for the long haul, and I'd love to finally have a normal father-son relationship with Gabe. I haven't been with him enough."

"You were young, Clay. And you did very well as a father. Gabe hasn't suffered. He had good role models and he was raised with love and every advantage."

Clay looked at his sister and whispered, "Thank you, Ursula."

"No," she said, "thank you! I love that boy."

Much later, after coffee and some of the best pie imaginable, Ursula walked Clay out to his truck. "I meant what I said, you know. I'm so glad you're here and I hope this works for you. I want you close and happy. And I want you to have the life you want with your son, finally."

"I think that will be the case," he said. But what he thought was, The life I really want is yours. The life I thought I'd have, filled with family and intimacy and friendship and trust. It happens around your table and I always dreamed my table would be the same.

He pushed the self-pitying thoughts from his mind. "I'm very glad to be near you and your family again," he said. "But I don't like your husband's haircut."

"I don't know what possessed him," she said, looking over her shoulder as if Tom might be there, listening. "He said he's tired of it. Lincoln gave him a lot of shit."

Clay lifted his dark brows. "Nice talk for the police chief's wife."

"Aw, cut me some slack--I'm not around the elders or children and I bet you've heard that word before." Then she grinned. "Clay, you know I've wanted Gabe here with me since he was little. I know Father was right, that I should concentrate on my own children and I know Gabe did well with the Tahomas, but I want you to know, this is as happy a day for me as for you."

"If he'll come," Clay said. "I won't force him. He's been on the reservation a long time and it's a safe place for him."

"He'll come," she said, giving him a reassuring smile. "He might be comfortable where he is, but when he's with you he comes alive. He wants to be with his father. This is a very good thing--for all of us."

Clay smiled. "I'm glad you're happy about it, Ursula. Because I've heard Tom say that when you're happy, everyone is happy."

"It's true," she said, not embarrassed in the least by that comment. "How soon can he be here?"

"Let me call him tomorrow and let you know."

"Thank you, Clay. Thank you for trusting me with your son."

He felt a small surge in his breast; he was so proud of his sister. She was a good woman, a good wife, a good mother. He grabbed her to him, held her tight and said, "Thank you, Ursula. I love you like a sister."

She laughed and hugged him. Hard.

Except for visiting his father out in L.A. a few times, Gabe's home since his birth had been with his grandparents. Clay had hoped for this day for a very long time, the day he could offer his son a home at least close enough that they could see each other every day. It was tempting to head for the reservation, gather up his boy and bring him back to California. But Gabe was a young man now--a seventeen-year-old; it would be selfish of Clay to insist on this change if it wasn't in his son's best interest, if it wouldn't make him happy. So rather than traveling out there, he called.

Out of respect, Clay spoke first to his father about bringing Gabe to California. He then spoke to his mother. Their response was as expected--Gabe was past the age of having such decisions made for him and if he chose to leave their house to be closer to his father and aunt, they would respect his decision. Likewise, Clay would have to respect Gabe's decision if he chose to stay with his grandparents.