A/N: Well, I wasn't able to put everything I wanted to into Choctaw. I considered waiting till my "Learning Choctaw" buddies on Facebook could answer my plea for help, but decided I'd rather just get this posted. So… you can assume that if Nita is praying, it's in Choctaw, even though I had to use English. When I do use Choctaw, if I don't put a translation in brackets right next to it, you can be sure I'll translate within the next line or two of text. :) Thank you to my wonderful beta readers! I will try to get another chapter up within the next week, but if I don't, Na Hvlbina Aiokpachi Na Yukpa (Happy Thanksgiving)!

A/N 2: I've made some corrections to this chapter—as I read through it after posting, I realized I had been a bit sloppy. Far too much head shaking going on! Hopefully I've improved it. Now, I think I'd best not read it again or there will be no end to the editing!

As consciousness returned once again, Nita lay still, afraid to open her eyes. She could feel that she was no longer in a moving vehicle, and a breath of air against her face was evidence that she was no longer in a small enclosed space. Her arms, still bound behind her, ached fiercely. The soft sound of someone sniffling alerted her that she was not alone. At last, she blinked open her eyes.

Moonlight filtering in through a row of large windows near the ceiling illuminated an otherwise unlit warehouse. Surrounding Nita were about twenty more women and girls. Nita thought herself the oldest among them, and she guessed the youngest was no more than fourteen or fifteen. Each was bound and gagged, and they all lay on the floor, protected from the cold concrete by a thick layer of old carpet. The girl closest to Nita lay with eyes wide open, tears trickling down her cheeks, and Nita wished she could comfort her somehow. Chihowa, she begged silently, pi yimmintvchi! [encourage us].

Her eyes traveled beyond the cluster of captives to take in the rest of their prison. About three quarters of the area was filled with rows of luxury vehicles. Rarely one to travel by car, the only one she knew by name was a flashy red Fiat Spider—Billy had studied pictures of such a car in a magazine only a month or two ago. "Look at it, Nita… if I ever learn to drive, the Fiat Spider's the sort of car I'd want. The guys at work are all drooling over the Chevy Corvette, but the Spider is 10 times nicer." She had looked at the picture and murmured her agreement at how beautiful the car was, wishing that somehow he could have what he wanted.

Tears flooded Nita's eyes as she thought about her brother. She knew he would be worried, as desperate to find her as she was to be found. Chihowa, sv hopohla chia [You are my solace], she prayed. Comfort us… but most of all, please… get us out of here!

Johnny slid into the passenger seat of Roy's old blue Chevy pickup. "Thanks, Roy," he said. "I've gotta go by 110's first." He clammed up after that and sat staring into the night as Roy pulled out of the parking lot and turned left onto Vermont Avenue.

"Spill it, Junior," Roy said. As he shifted gears, he gave a sidewise glance at his best friend.

Johnny sat slumped in his seat, his head turned toward the passenger side window. "Spill what?"

The hint of irritation in Johnny's voice might have warned someone who didn't know him well away from pushing for more, but Roy would not be deterred. "You called me after 11:00 at night to come pick you up from Rampart. I know you had to leave the Rover for Chet, but I can see there's something more, just from the way you're hunched over there."

"I'm tired."

"A few more answers like that and I'm gonna have to start callin' you Stoker instead of Junior," Roy joked. "Come on, Johnny. Stop being so stubborn. You know I'll ferret it out of you sooner or later."

Johnny heaved a long sigh before just giving up. "Fine… but it's a long story."

"Well, it's not like 110's is all that close," Roy said. "Go on… I'm listening."

"My new man, Billy Folsom…"

Roy nodded. "I've met him. He subbed at my station a couple months ago. Good kid."

Johnny gave a wry laugh. "Yeah, us boys from Bogue Chitto tend to be good kids."

"You mean… he's from your home town?" In spite of a friendship that spanned a decade, Roy knew little about Johnny's life before he joined the LA County Fire Department. Sure, he had taught the kids some Choctaw words and traditions, and he was a favorite visitor at Chris's Indian Guides group, but Roy could count on one hand the number of times Johnny had willingly shared something personal from his past.

"Yeah," Johnny confirmed. "He was injured tonight… critically. Almost died on the way to Rampart, the way Jake Benson described it. Anyway… he's from the same res I grew up on, back in Mississippi. Do you know how hard I've worked to put that part of my life behind me? And yesterday it all came rushing back when Billy Folsom stepped into my station with a basket of banaha bread made by my first girlfriend. I wasn't ready for that."

Roy's right eyebrow quirked upward. "Your first girlfriend… and Billy? Isn't she… a bit old for him?"

"She's his sister," Johnny clarified. "Nita. As far as we were concerned last time we saw one another, we were engaged." He laughed. "We were all of twelve years old. I was just leaving for boarding school… Nita kissed me and I kissed her back. I threw a pebble at her and she threw it back..." He shrugged and shook his head. "We had been learning about the old ways. A couple of centuries ago, that exchange of pebbles was all it took for a couple to start planning a wedding… well, that and approval from their aunts, but we didn't have a chance to take it that far."

Roy merged onto the 405. "So, what happened?"

Johnny continued staring out the window, but he also kept talking. "I went to boarding school… we wrote letters for a few months… then she stopped writing me. I had to learn from a friend that her mom died giving birth to Billy. Then my dad died and I never went back to Bogue Chitto. I pushed Nita to the back of my mind."

"But not really?" Out of the corner of his eye, Roy saw that Johnny flinched, and he hoped that his probing questions weren't too painful.

"No… not really." He took in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. "You know I've always had one excuse after another for why none of my relationships worked out… the girl was always too bossy or too heavy or too skinny or too demanding. Damn, I must've seemed so shallow to the rest of you guys. But in the end, it always came down to one thing—none of the girls I dated could ever push Nita's image out of my mind." He shook his head. "I'm such an idiot, Roy. I mean, I was 12 years old, for cryin' out loud! Just a kid… I didn't know a thing about love. But there was something about Nita…. She 'got' me like no one else did. I remember the day we became best friends. I was eight years old, still mourning Svshki's death—"

"Svshki?" Roy asked. He glanced again and saw that Johnny had now closed his eyes and was leaning his head back.

"Sorry… my mother's death. Remember, I told you she died of grief over losing my little sister?"

"Yeah, I remember." Roy shifted gears again, then signaled a lane change to get around a slower vehicle.

"Well, that's all my dad told me. Charlie Turtle told me the rest. He was nine that year, about the size of a small ox and twice as dumb, and the biggest bully among all the kids in Bogue Chitto. One afternoon in the school yard, he told me that Svshki had taken her own life because she was ohoyo tasimbo… a crazy woman. He went on to inform me that because she was crazy, I would be too, as it was in the blood. I clenched my fists and charged at him, even though he was twice my size… punched him as hard as I could in the gut. All he did was laugh. Then he punched me and sent me sprawling. The other kids laughed with him, but I think it was just because they were too scared not to. Truth was, I gained some respect among them that day because I went up against Charlie Turtle. I wasn't about to tell them I was just too hurt and angry to heed good sense and walk away. The only one who didn't laugh was Nita. She knew better than to stand up to Charlie in my defense—the last thing I needed was for the other kids to say a girl had to fight my battles for me—but she knelt down beside me and told me loud enough for everyone to hear that Charlie Turtle was imanukfila iksho tasimbo… a crazy fool… and so was anyone who listened to him, and she was proud of me for standing up to him. With her encouragement, I got myself up on my feet and walked away, my head held high and my new best friend at my side. Charlie never bothered me again. I guess it helped that Nita's grandfather was one of the most respected elders in the community."

"Friends in high places, huh?" Roy quipped.

"You got that right. The Folsoms have been an important family among the Choctaw for generations. Nita's grandpa came from a long line of minko—chiefs—and preachers. Some were both, but he was content with just the preaching side of it. Charlie Turtle wasn't about to risk the wrath of old Preacher Folsom."

"Folsom doesn't exactly sound native," Roy commented as he changed lanes.

"And you think Gage does? My dad's dad was English and my mom's dad was German by heritage, but both sappokni—my grandmothers—were full-blood Choctaw. Nita and her brother are both almost completely Choctaw; about all that's left of their English ancestry is the name."

Roy nodded thoughtfully. "So… what it comes down to is, you haven't seen Nita since you left for boarding school and now you have to go tell her about her brother?"

"Exactly," Johnny said. "If I can find her. According to Matt Thomas, Billy was trying to get hold of her all day and never could. And then there's this…" He pulled the carved wolf out of his shirt pocket. "I sent Nita this pendant with my first letter after I went to boarding school. Carved it myself on the journey to Oklahoma. She had given me a carved bear pendant before I left. Nita means bear; my Choctaw name was Nashoba Tushpa… Swift Wolf. Dr. Early says Billy was clutching this in his hand when they pulled him out of that house. I don't know why he would have it, and I can't ask him because he's unconscious. I also can't ask him whether Nita ever told him about me or whether he told Nita I was his captain, or how she might react when she sees me again for the first time in almost 20 years. Dang… I feel like that 12-year-old kid all over again."

Roy shot a quick glance over at the wolf pendant before fastening his gaze back on the highway. "Well then, however you need me, Junior, I'll back you up."

"Thanks, Pally. I appreciate it. You can start by going in 110's to get the key to Nita and Billy's trailer. I… don't think I can handle seeing Matt again just now. I nearly punched him in the nose back at Rampart."

Roy stifled an incredulous laugh. "You what?!"

"Nearly punched him. He started talking like he knew Nita and I could see in his eyes that he was sweet on her. The thought of Nita and… well… anyone else…" Johnny's voice trailed off and he was quiet for a moment before continuing. "I haven't considered the possibility for years, but when it was right there in front of me, it drove me nuts."

"You are that 12-year-old kid all over again, aren't you?" Roy asked with a wry laugh. "Good thing you didn't go after him like you did Charlie Turtle. Matt's got at least 30 pounds on you and I happen to know he trained as a boxer. He's also a pretty good guy, actually."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "I'm not an idiot, Roy. I know he's a good guy. It's just, all these emotions I thought were long buried were suddenly and without warning dragged out of the grave yesterday morning when I looked through Billy's file and realized who he was. I'm a little… touchy… and I can't face Matt again just now."

"OK, OK, I got it," Roy said as he pulled into the parking lot at 110's. A light burned in the captain's office. "Stay here. I'll go in and get the key."

Forty-five minutes later, after a brief stop at 51's to confirm the address, Roy pulled the pickup to a stop in front of a trailer at the Windward Village Mobile Home Park. Johnny stared through the window at the simple trailer, and Roy thought he seemed more intimidated by the peaceful setting than by a fully involved apartment fire. He stepped out of the driver's seat and moved around to Johnny's side, where he pulled the door handle and opened the door, then stepped back. "You ready for this?"

"No, but here goes nothin'," Johnny said, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. As he trotted up the steps to the door of the trailer, leaving Roy waiting by the truck, the distant yowl of a cat broke through the night.

"Nita?!" Johnny called, pounding on the door. "Nita! Are you in there?" No one answered, but a light went on in the next trailer and a moment later a woman in curlers and a dark bathrobe and wielding a baseball bat came out the door and stalked across the path. She was at least a foot shorter than Johnny and just as wiry.

"What's the matter with you?" she hissed. "You're making enough noise to wake the dead." In other circumstances, the sight of the small woman with the bat might have elicited a snicker from Roy, except she was waving it in his face, even though it was Johnny making the noise.

"So sorry, ma'am," Roy said, pulling out his wallet and flashing his department ID. "Captain Roy DeSoto, LA County Fire Department. That man is my colleague, Captain John Gage. We're looking for Miss Nita Folsom, who lives in this trailer. Her brother, who works out of John's station, is injured and in the hospital, and no one has been able to reach her by phone to inform her. We have a key, but thought it best to knock first instead of just busting in."

She still glared at him, but lowered the bat. "Well, I can tell you she's not there. I've been over there several times today myself because she didn't put the rent money in my box this afternoon the way she was supposed to. I should've known better than to rent to a couple of redsk…"

"I suggest you not finish that sentence, ma'am," Johnny growled. He had stepped down from the porch without Roy or the woman noticing. His glare was stone cold. "You'll get your rent money. Roy, give me the key… we need to go in and check it out. Maybe she left Billy a note saying where she went."

The manager bristled and hefted the bat again. "Oh no… You aren't setting foot in one of my trailers, key or no key! How'm I to know that ID is for real? Now, get off this property, or I'm calling the police!"

Roy could see Johnny's shoulders tense and his fists curl. Though he knew without a doubt that Johnny would never strike a woman, he was pretty sure she didn't know that, and he was also reasonably sure she could do some damage with the bat in spite of her small stature. He stepped in between his distraught friend and the trailer park manager. "Tell you what, ma'am," he suggested, hoping a steady, gentle tone would appease her. "We can wait for the police. Why don't you make that call? We'll explain the situation to them when they get here and they can accompany us inside, make sure everything is on the up and up. We may need them to help look for Miss Folsom, anyway." His eyes shot Johnny a silent message to back off and relax. "Ask for Officer Vince Howard."

She looked back and forth from Johnny to Roy as she considered the suggestion. Finally, she lowered the bat again. "All right. But don't go in the trailer while I'm inside or I will have you arrested."

"We won't, ma'am," Roy assured her. "We'll just go wait in my truck until the police arrive."

She backed away from them several steps, then turned and scurried back into her trailer.

"The key, Roy," Johnny insisted as soon as she was out of sight.

"Get in the truck, Junior. We're waiting, just like I promised her." Roy walked around to the driver's side door and climbed in.

"You said you'd back me up," Johnny grumbled, but he opened his door and got in.

"That's what I'm doing," Roy said. "You won't do Nita any good from a jail cell. Besides, if she really is missing, we could use Vince's help, don't you think?"

Johnny sighed. "You're right. Man… can you believe that woman?"

"Look at it through her eyes, Johnny," Roy suggested. "She was awakened in the middle of the night by a stranger pounding on her neighbor's door… a neighbor who didn't make the rent payment on time. I think if you were in her shoes, you might be a bit cross too."

"Cross, maybe… but not racist. I mean, my first thought would be concern about whether something happened to the tenant."

"Well, maybe she's been burned before. I'm not excusing what she said—that was plain ignorant. But if you go in that trailer right now, in her mind, you'll confirm those negative stereotypes. If you wait here with me, you have a chance of showing her that she's wrong. Maybe she'll learn something."

Johnny sighed. "Fine. I suppose you're right. But I sure hope Nita isn't in there unconscious or something. We could be waiting a while."

Thankfully, the squad car arrived not five minutes later and Vince Howard climbed out. As Johnny and Roy stepped out of the truck, the manager came out of her trailer once again. This time, she was dressed in slacks and a t-shirt and had left the baseball bat behind.

"Johnny… Roy…" Vince greeted them with a nod, then turned to the woman who'd called for him. "Ma'am. What seems to be the problem?"

She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, appraising Vince with a critical eye. "These two men… they claim to be fire department employees looking for one of my tenants, but they aren't in uniform, and they came making all sorts of noise, and that one flashed his ID too fast for me to get a good look."

Vince nodded, then turned to the two fire captains. "Guys?" he asked.

"We came to notify the woman who lives in this trailer—Nita Folsom—that her brother Billy was badly injured at a house fire a few hours ago," Roy explained. "But there's some concern as to her whereabouts—her brother was trying to contact her all day and she never answered the phone. We have his key and thought we'd go inside and see if she's in there and hurt, or if maybe she left Billy a note about where she was going."

"Sounds reasonable to me," Vince agreed, then turned his gaze back to the trailer park manager. "Ma'am, I can guarantee you these men are who they say they are. I'll go in with them, but they are going in."

She frowned, but this time she didn't argue. "Well, while you're in there, see if you can find my rent check. I told 'em when they moved in, I don't tolerate late payments, and as of 5:00 p.m., they are late." She turned on her heel and strutted back to her own trailer.

Inside, they found the small home was immaculately clean. They divided up and did a quick sweep of the premises. Roy soon discovered a note he assumed was in Choctaw on the kitchen counter. "I found something, but I can't read it!" he called, just as Johnny emerged from a bedroom. He handed the note to his friend, then he and Vince began sorting through a neat stack of papers on the small desk near the phone.

"It says she's working a new job and will be home a little after noon," Johnny translated. "Not very helpful… but it does tell us she intended to come back."

"I think I've got it," Roy announced. "There's a want ad for a housecleaning job here, and an address written on it," he called, just as Johnny emerged from a bedroom. "722 E. 222nd St."

Vince looked up from his half of the stack. "What was that address again?" he asked.

"722 E. 222nd… not far from here."

"Son of a gun," Vince murmured. "Maybe the old man was right all along!"

"Old man?" Johnny asked. "What are you talking about, Vince?"

"That's the address of the house fire where Billy Folsom was injured. I was there. Captain Thomas told me the old man who lived there—a Mr. Lansing—was convinced someone was in the pantry, but his son insisted he was senile and was talking about his dead wife. Thomas didn't believe the son, said he looked pretty shifty. I talked to him and something did seem off, but there was no evidence that anyone else was inside that house. I had to let him go. He was going to follow the ambulance that took his father to Rampart. I think we should start there."

"You think this guy might have Nita?" Johnny asked, fury burning in his eyes.

Vince shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe. And it could all just be a coincidence—she may have been there earlier in the day and then left before the fire. We need to talk with the old man and with Billy."

"Well, Billy won't be talkin' to anyone for a while yet," Johnny said. "But perhaps the old man could help. Roy, if you've gotta get home, maybe Vince could take me back to Rampart."

Roy gave a thoughtful smile as his mind flashed back to six years before, when he waited in the hospital chapel just before D.J. was born. It had been a harrowing morning, but Johnny had brought him through it. Now he echoed his best friend's words from that day, "I'm here for the duration, Pally."*

*This quote refers to my story The Gift.