Page 6 of Coast

Chapter One

Coast

Riding across the triballands, I glanced around. The only light came from my lone headlight, or the occasional light shining in a resident’s yard. Even under the cover of night, I knew I passed areas where the housing was nothing more than hovels lined up. Poverty ran high on the reservation. And it wasn’t the first time I rode through and was thankful my dad had chosen to fight for me.

If I’d grown up on the reservation, I knew in my heart I would have either ended up in prison as my mom’s dad had, who eventually died after being shanked in the prison yard. Or I would have died from an overdose like my mom had and her mother before her.

I’d visited the reservation at least twice a year since I turned two. At first, my dad would bring me and stay. By the time I reached my teens, he would drop me off, then return for me no longer than a week later.

After I joined the military, my visits became far and few between depending when I made it home on leave. Since leaving the military, I’d only visited twice and stayed only a couple days each time.

Within an hour of receiving the call that hampered my plans of surprising Mac after Jag and River’s wedding celebration, I packed a few things in my saddlebags, spoke with my dad, and was on the road. Mac would have to wait.

The ride to the reservation had only taken me a few hours, but the miles had been lonely. Both my dad and Flirt had volunteered to make the trip with me, but I declined the offers. I needed the alone time on my bike to work through the feelings I held for Mac. Wanting her was easy. And I knew I could get her in my bed, it was keeping her there. I wanted what my brothers had found with their women. In my heart, I knew Mac was mine. Convincing her that I was hers would be the test on my patience.

The closer I got to my great grandfather’s place, the more ashamed of myself I became. Kiyaya Young was the only person from my maternal side who still lived. He was one of the few who ever gave a shit that I existed. I owed him more than the occasional visit. He was the only reason I visited the reservation over the years. Because of him, I had the knowledge of my ancestry, spoke some of the Sahaptin dialect, and had an understanding of tribal life. He was smart, stubborn, and a hardass. And he’d be mad as hell when I showed up on his doorstep.

When I rode my bike up to Kiyaya’s small wooden home, I no sooner shut it down, and a low wattage light on the porch turned on, followed by the front door being opened. My great grandfather’s form filled the doorway. He was one hundred percent Native American and looked every bit the part of an aging warrior.

At eighty-nine, his hair was white, and his face was covered in weathered skin. I knew if I saw him from behind, his ponytail would be braided and reach the middle of his back. If not for the weathered skin of his face and the white hair, most wouldn’t be able to come close in guessing the man’s age.

I dismounted my bike as he stepped out onto the porch. He was tall and lean, and the expression on his face was not of a happy man.

“Damn, Suni. That woman needs to mind her own business,” he said half the words in English and the other half in his native language. When he combined the two languages, it was a definite sign that he was pissed.

So, of course, I responded with a smile on my face, “Eh, nice to see you, too, old man.”

“Ain’t you got better shit to do than coming here to harass me? It’s time you found a woman. Settled down and had a few kids.”

I chuckled and grabbed my saddlebags. “Who says I don’t have a woman? I haven’t been here in eight months. Besides, do you think it’s a good idea for you to be outside?” I asked as I walked toward the porch.

He huffed and turned around and went inside. I followed and shut the door behind me.

“Do you have aáyat,woman?” he asked as he walked to the stove.

“Not yet. I’m working on it.”

“What’s there to work on? You find aáyat, then you make her yours.” He poured heated water into a cup and stirred it before turning and setting it on the table.

“Is that how you caught Aahna?”

He smiled, then started coughing. I walked to him and pulled a chair out and helped him to sit. After the coughing spell was over and he’d taken a drink of whatever was in his cup, he answered, “Your great grandmother was a strong and beautiful woman. Many tried to gain her attention. It had been my honor to have been chosen by her. A man needs a strongásham, wife, by his side.”

“I can’t argue with that,” I said, chuckling as I moved to the other side of the open area toward the door to the second bedroom.

“Why would you? I am right.”

I shook my head and snorted. “What are you doing up so late?”

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