Seated behind his dad as he throttled the Harley, Rain was regretting the fact that he had so boldly defied Chase. He had no doubt that Chase would deal with him later. And so, he kept his mouth shut. Rain had known Ben Black Bull ever since he’d started school in Crete back in first grade. He knew him as the first friendly Native he had ever met. Ben had such a way about him that he put Rain at ease with his soft-spoken words. When the Lakota was not driving the bus for the Crete district, he worked as a dog handler at his rescue ranch west of the small town of Sprague.
The past two summers, Rain and Jessie had seen the magic of Ben, who had spent all of his life around dogs back on Pine Ridge where he was born. He had learned the secret of how to work with the most challenging dogs. Ben was a dog whisperer, and that the Lakota shared his secrets with the two brothers was considered an honor.
As soon as Chase pulled up beside the Sprague general store, Rain leaped off of his dad’s bike and strode over to the dusty porch. While the thunder of the Harley slowly faded, Rain planted his butt on the rickety wooden bench situated there. He looked squarely at his dad. Chase slipped his kickstand down, dismounted his Harley, and walked over to the porch.
Rain shook back his raven hair and stuck out his chin in a show of obstinance. “You gonna hit me for not backing down from Daws?”
Chase said, “I am gonna hit you for not shutting your mouth when I told you to.”
He let loose with a swift roundhouse, his palm slamming into Rain’s startled face. Staggered by the blow, his boots slid out from under him and Rain landed hard on his butt. Slapping him upside his head, Chase doubled up his fist to deliver a solid punch to his face. “Chase,” a voice came from beside the store. “Rain got the point. Now, back off.”
Chase froze, holding Rain up by his chin. “You’re a wise-ass, Beef Tory! This is club business!”
Fifteen-year-old Beef flicked his long, blond bangs out of his eyes. “Yeah, but Rain doesn’t even belong to the Outlaws yet. Pummeling him, would not sit well with Pops, Chase.”
Chase flung Rain away, sending him stumbling, his palms creating furrows in the gravel-covered street. Chase was president, and not one of the sixty members of the Outlaws ever defied him. He was clearly drawing a line in the sand for some odd reason. Rain knew there were reasons his dad kept his cool with Beef stepping into club business. Chase and Beef’s father had grown up together, and Big Mike was the Sheriff of Gage County and he didn’t like domestic abuse one bit.
“You’re just pissed,” Beef said, “over the dog, ain’t you, Chase? Now that Daws threatened to make the phone call, he’s got all the clubs on edge. Outlaws. Elder’s Den. Gladiators. Screaming Eagles.”
Chase looked over to the female Pitbull waddling up beside Beef. She was a brute, with her stocky chest, thick muscular legs, and her Brindle markings covering her bulky head. The Outlaw president said, “Keep her hidden in the barn. Word gets to the Den that we’ve got Molly here in Sprague, her and her pups are dead. You two take Molly back to the barn. I’ll pick up the wagon to pick up Jessie from the ER.”
Rain waited until Chase kicked over his bike before wiping blood from his bottom lip. He didn’t want to give his dad the satisfaction that he’d hurt him. He spit a stream of blood onto the dusty floorboards of the general store. He forced a grin at Beef with his split lip.
An hour later, Chase dropped Jessie off in front of the General Store. Before driving away, the big bear of a biker president shook out two pain pills and offered the little kid a swig of his soda to down the pills.
Jessie thanked his dad, then turned slowly due to the cast on his right arm. He joined Rain and Beef on the dusty boards of the porch.
A storm washed over the small town. The three boys waited it out on the porch of the general store. Sheltered by the overhanging roof and lulled by the falling rain, Beef and Rain smoked cigarettes, watching puddles swell in the streets on either side of them. Jessie groggily leaned against Rain and fell asleep, the medication kicking in. “The rug rat’s asleep,” Rain said. “If Dad saw this he would say, ‘How gay.’ Chase is hard that way.”
“Right,” Beef said. “Me? I’ve always been proud of the fact that you never pick on Jessie, unlike Chase who always picks on you. Jessie ain’t built like that. He cries if your dad even looks at him wrong. Besides, I think your dad likes it when he sees you being cool to Jessie. Just probably not like this. If Dad had seen this, he would definitely make a fag comment.”
For long moments, the two of them sat there listening to the patter of the rain on the shingles above them. Rain looked over at his friend, his face illuminated by his cigarette as the cherry glowed bright red. Rain said, “He got hurt before he even got his first Harley. And it wasn’t due to the fact that his first and second wives ran off. Teresa, my mom, took the Nelson name, but Jessie’s mother, Krystal Dalton, never made their marriage official. That’s why we are always explaining that we are brothers with different last names. Losing both wives hurt him, but my dad’s carried another pain for a long, long time.”
He flicked away his cigarette butt so that it flitted through the air like a firefly. Rain said, “My dad’s little brother was gay. Dad beat him up one night in an attempt to change him. Two nights later, Josh took their dad’s gun out behind their house and put a bullet in his head. Now you know what sorrow plagues Chase Nelson. At 19, he started the Outlaws here in Sprague, then they branched out with chapters in 20 small towns throughout Nebraska. Chase rode solo into Guardian territory up in Omaha to have a sit-down with the president. Chase asked him to leave Sprague and Crete out of his network, arguing that coke, heroin, and acid posed a danger. The president of the Guardians wouldn’t agree. So, Chase contacted Billy Connors, owner of the Emerald Pub in Have-lock. The leader of the Irish granted that the two small towns would be deemed a no-man’s land for the sale of these stronger drugs. But the Guardians told Daws one more interference with drug deals, they would send some maniac down here to shut the Outlaws down.”
Changing the subject, Rain withdrew the cigar tube from the top of his boot. “Check this out. Jack Holland lost it today when he caused our bus to crash.”
Beef took the metal tube and removed the cork sealing it at the top. He removed a badly yellowed page that had been rolled tightly to make it fit into the tube. “A map. Looks like something valuable is buried at Quarry Oaks outside of Lincoln. Those words say Indian artifacts. To a relic collector, ancient artifacts are worth millions. Jack dropped this? What in hell would he be doing searching for Indian relics?”
Rain rolled the map back up and slid it back into the cigar tube. “Don’t know, but finders keepers, losers weepers. As far as I am concerned.”