Page 135 of Chaos has a Name
That would be an unfair fight.
Callen couldn’t take a swing at the man, and he knew it. His brother’s back was fragile. If he hurt him, Elizabeth would hunt him down and make him cry.
No.
Doubt.
“I know, Bro. You’re a scary, scary head-shrinker,” he joked. “Please don’t Freud me to death.”
Blackhawk snorted.
“Shut up, goofball and don’t be a dick. You’re slower than I am,” he stated. “Talk about yourself there.”
Callen just laughed. Well, it seemed like everything was the same when they were back here.
The older brother was doing older brother things.
As for Gryphen…
He’d hover by the door to listen for any breaking furniture or shouts.THEN, he’d head in.
Because if they got hurt…Ivan was chewing ass.
HIS.
“If you need me, shout,” Gryphen said, taking a seat on a bench near the door. He’d text his fiancé and see how he was doing as he waited for the brothers to do their thing.
As for shouting…
Oh, there likely would be, but it would be Native men doing that when they were angry that outsiders had arrived and the trouble was brewing again.
Ethan waved his arm, letting his brother take the lead. This was, after all, his rodeo.
At the doors leading into the inner sanctum of the council house, they headed in.
When they moved into the council room, both men took off their shoes, and headed toward where Chief Tom Redbear was sitting. He had bowls of steaming soup waiting for them, like he had promised.
Sharing a meal was very important culturally, and for Callen to do his job effectively. It was a welcome that offered up an olive branch, and he knew it.
There was no way they could say no.
Instead, they would be gracious guests.
“Welcome,” he said. “Lance and Abe will be here shortly,” he admitted as they made their way toward him. “They are on their way back to meet with us. Until then, let’s eat,” he said.
The two men sat, and he handed them each a bowl of soup. In it, there were vegetables, and noodles. It smelled of recipes found on the reservation for generations past.
They smelled like Timothy had cooked, and that was comforting.
As they ate, they thanked him.
“Thank you for lunch,” Callen said. “It’s delicious, and we appreciate it.”
The man was deeply amused.
“It’s not lost on me that I never thought I’d be sitting down with the Blackhawk boys, those two hellions who tore this reservation up in their youth.”
Callen shrugged.
