"Warden?"

Garrison looked up from the last mission report to find Chief standing at his open office door. He was a little surprised, in the two months the team had been together Chief had never come to see him. "Yes, Chief?"

"You got a minute?" Chief asked hesitantly. He was staring down at the thick carpet and for the first time since he had pulled him out of prison, Garrison thought he looked nervous.

Leaning back, Garrison motioned toward the other chair. "Sure, come on in. I need a break from all this paperwork."

Still not looking at him, Chief sat down. Something serious was obviously bothering the man. "What can I do for you?"

With a heavy sigh, Chief said quietly, "I lied to you when you came to the prison."

Garrison leaned forward. "About what?"

The onyx eyes came up to met his. "I can't read or write."

Garrison took a deep breath. Literacy was one of the few things he had specifically asked about. A little anger flashed through him at the lie but it vanished as quickly as it came. He didn't even have to ask why Chief had lied. When he'd interviewed him in Attica, Chief had just come out of solitary for fighting. The Indian had been sporting a broken arm and was twenty pounds underweight. Through he refused to admit it even to himself, Garrison's decision to take Chief had been swayed by the justified impression that he wouldn't live much longer in that hellhole.

"What made you decide to tell me?"

Chief stared over Garrison's shoulder to the wall. "Figured out why you asked. You write something down, I can't read it, might get someone killed."

"True," Garrison said.

Before he could say anything else, Chief continued. "Thought maybe I could stay on until you get a replacement. This way you'll know and can plan for it."

Garrison almost smiled. "Chief?" The Indian looked up at him, expression bleak. "Do you want to read?"

The question puzzled him for an instant. "Never really thought about it much. Never really tried before."

Coming to his feet, Garrison walked around the desk, put his hand on Chief's shoulder. "I'm not sending you back to prison, Chief. I'm going to send you someplace a lot tougher." Chief looked up. "I'm going to send you to school."

When Chief only stared in amazement at him, Garrison smiled. "Come on. Between the five of us..."

"You gonna tell the others?" Chief asked with a touch of panic.

"Yes..."

Chief came to his feet, anger filling his dark eyes. "I don't want them to know."

Seeing the stubborn pride that had prompted the statement, Garrison said calmly, "Chief, they can all help. Actor is the best natural teacher I've ever seen. Goniff may not be a lot of help but..."

"Casino..." Chief started.

Garrison waved it off. "Casino isn't as bad as you think. Trust me."

At the words "trust me" Chief took a sharp breath. After a minute he gave Garrison a quick nod.

"Really?" Casino said sharply. "You can't read?"

Garrison stepped forward, seeing the anger starting in Chief's expression. "Casino..."

"You know," Casino continued, not paying any attention to Garrison's warning. "I helped teach all my bothers and sisters to read. It was kinda fun."

Garrison glanced sideways to Chief. The fire in the dark eyes had vanished, replaced with wariness laced with hope.

"The school down the road must have some books we could borrow," Goniff advised.

"Borrow?" Garrison questioned, knowing how the little thief usually used the term.

"Ah, Warden," Goniff defended. "I'd ask."

"Yeah, sure, Goniff," Chief said levelly but there was a new lightness in his voice.

Actor remained silent, sucking on his pipe. As one the others turned to him. After another minute of silence, Garrison's patience ran out. "You don't have to help if you don't want to, Actor," Garrison informed him a little hotly. He had really thought Actor would be the first to volunteer.

The tall con man suddenly straightened, seeing how his silence had been interpreted. "What? Of course, I would be honored to help. I was merely considering how much one can learn from books."

There was something in his tone that told Garrison there was more to the simple statement than what it said. For now he let it go, caught up in the sudden enthusiasm for this strange new project. As the three cons started discussing their ideas for lessons, Garrison watched Chief. The wariness took a few minutes to fade but it did fade, gradually disappearing into a look almost of bewilderment. As the conversation continued, a touch of annoyance joined the wonder.

"Do I get to say anything?" he demanded, stopping the others.

"Sure, Chiefy," Goniff said cheerfully.

Having gained their attention, he looked up at Garrison, his annoyance growing as he realized he didn't have anything to add. Garrison smiled at him and, very slowly, Chief returned the smile. Casino frowned, rolled his eyes, and turned back to the others.

Garrison sat quietly in the corner, trying to pretend he was doing the required Army paperwork. No one had made mention of his sudden desire to do the work in the main room. Likewise, he hadn't told them that watching them teaching Chief was proving to be too insightful to miss. Actor, as he had thought, had proven to be the most traditional, laying the foundation for Chief's learning. But when things got too boring, there was Goniff and Casino. Goniff had indeed borrowed a good stack of children's books from the local school. Goniff's method was to simply sit down next to Chief, hand him a book and have him read it with him. After two months, with several long missions, they had still managed to reach the equivalence of a second grade level.

It was Casino, much to Garrison's surprise, that had proven to be the most imaginative at getting the Indian to practice what he was learning. Garrison leaned back, watching the safecracker's newest idea come to life.

"No way, baby," Casino kidded, flipping the dart in his hands. "A buck says you can't spell "brother"."

Chief frowned for a minute, studying the alphabet cards that Casino had pinned to a bulletin board. With a few quick snaps of his wrists, he sent the darts into the right letters. Casino frowned.

"Okay, you got lucky," he groused. "Double or nothing on "warden"."

As Casino retrieved the darts, he looked over at Garrison and there was a sparkle of amusement in the dark eyes. Garrison could also see the soft smile on Chief's face when Casino turned his back. They played for another hour. Chief was four dollars up when Garrison called lights out.

"Forget it!"

Garrison came to his feet immediately, lunch forgotten over the sheer surprise of hearing Chief's voice raised in anger. He came into the hall in time to hear the front door slam with alarming force. For a second he considered starting after the man, then decided he'd better know the cause first. Coming into the common room he was met with Actor standing at the window, watching Chief's retreat. Garrison stopped.

"Actor?" He questioned in surprise. Actor and Chief rarely argued.

Actor turned, sadness very readable in his expression. Garrison waited, knowing that Actor would explain eventually. With a deep sigh, he motioned vaguely toward the window.

"I gave Chief a book," he said quietly.

Still confused, Garrison said, "That's all? What the hell kind of book could get him..."

Walking passed him to the opposite wall, Actor bent over and retrieved a small book laying open on the floor, having obviously been thrown there. Garrison came over, took it as he offered it.

"How Horses Came to the Indians," he read off the cover.

He turned and smiled at Actor, understanding his statement of six months earlier, and the fact that he had been thinking along similar lines. "It's a good idea, Actor but you've got to be a little more subtle."

Outrage lit the tall con man's eyes. "Subtle! Warden, subtle is my middle name."

"Then keep watching," Garrison said vaguely. He glanced thoughtfully down at the book. "Though this may be a start."

Leaving a puzzled and slightly insulted Actor behind he took the middle school book and headed to where he knew he would find Chief.

Chief was sitting under a large tree near the pond. Unlike most times when Garrison had come to find him, he was not sprawled in relaxation. The man had his back to the tree, his legs pulled up to him and looked both angry and regretful. He didn't look up as Garrison sat down next to him. Garrison remained silent for a long time. Chief, obviously expecting him to say something, shifted slightly.

"If you've had enough, Chief," Garrison said calmly, "we can quit."

The dark eyes snapped up to met his, surprise and confusion filling them. "Quit? Reading?"

Garrison nodded. He lay the book on the ground between them. "If you're tired of reading, just say so. There's no need to throw the books."

Chief stared at the ground for a long time. "Don't want to quit," he finally admitted. "Just... didn't want to..."

The explanation died. Garrison waited a little longer, then seeing he had accomplished as much as he could for now, he stood. "Mission briefing at three, Chief."

Chief nodded, still not looking up. Garrison moved away, and out of the side of his vision, watched Chief pick up the book.

"Come-on, Chiefy. You'll like it."

It was Goniff's voice, barely raised above a conspiratorial whisper. Garrison paused with his hand on the doorknob.

"This ain't English, Goniff," Chief complained.

"Sure it is," Goniff encouraged. "It's just old fashioned kind of writing. Right here."

Silence claimed the room for a minute and Garrison could almost see Chief's look of disbelief. After a minute the Indian's level voice reached him.

"Up on unlacing the... blouse the fair lady did drop the fine mat...er..ial off her shoulders re...vealing to Tom her full white..."

"Goniff!" Chief suddenly stopped. "This is..."

Garrison opened the door. Both men came immediately to their feet. He could see Chief quickly lower the book to his side, a little behind his leg. He smiled at them and went to the table.

"Gentlemen," Garrison said calmly, barely controlling his smile.

"Warden," Goniff returned with just a touch of hesitation. "Come on, Chiefy, let's go to the pond. It's too nice a day to stay inside."

"Yeah," Chief agreed, nearly tripping over Goniff in his haste to reach the door.

He let them get almost half-way. "What are you reading there, Chief?"

"Oh, uh," Goniff came to the rescue. "One of the classics. Um, "Adventures of Tom Jones"."

"Really?" Garrison watched Chief, thinking how surprisingly young he looked standing there blushing. "Excellent book."

Chief looked up hopefully, started edging toward the door again. "Just got started..."

"Though," Garrison continued. "Lady Chatterly's Lover is steamier with better descriptions and more sex."

Goniff turned beet red while Chief stared at him in surprise. Chief saw the amusement in Garrison's eyes. Very slowly, he smiled. Goniff was now starting to sputter. Chief grabbed his arm.

"Thanks, Warden," the Indian said quickly. "Come on, Goniff, let's go."

Chuckling quietly, Garrison watched them disappear in hasty retreat.

He fought his way up through the haze of drugs, felt the hold on his hand. A strong grip, a smaller hand than his, Chief. Garrison smiled, forcing his eyes open; the first time it had been Actor, then Casino, now Chief.

With insight that Garrison could no longer deny, Chief said, "You just missed Goniff."

"Next time," Garrison whispered.

It didn't hurt to talk now and the pain from the bullet wounds had faded to a dull ache.

He was surprised to find that he remembered just about everything from the first two visits. Glancing sideways, he spotted on the table, the items he'd asked for and a box of chocolates.

"Goniff bring the chocolates?" he wondered.

Chief suddenly found the wall fascinating and Garrison could see a blush color the dark cheeks. "No," was all he said.

Smiling, he said, "Well, thank whoever did for me."

A nod was his only answer. Chief slipped his hand away. "Doc says you should drink as much as you can. You lost a lot of blood."

Carefully, Chief sat down next to him and slipped an arm under his shoulder, raising him to sip at the cold glass of water. Garrison finished the whole glass. Just as gently, Chief eased him back down.

"More?"

Garrison shook his head. "Maybe later."

The ebony eyes met his again as Chief sat down. "Is there anything else I can do?"

With his good arm he pointed toward the table. "Yeah. Why don't you read to me?"

"Me?" Chief nearly squeaked.

He looked so uncomfortable that for a moment Garrison considered relenting. But he really did want the company. There had been so many missions so close together lately he had also lost track of how Chief was doing.

"You read to Goniff," he stated. When Chief still hesitated, he added, "I really would like you to."

The hesitation was still there but Garrison could see a warmth of pleasure in the dark gaze. Chief picked up the book, staring at the title for a minute. "The Wit and Wisdom of Will Rogers," he read clearly.

"The page is marked," Garrison volunteered.

Chief shifted around, stretching out and crossing his legs. He opened the book to where a slip of white paper served as a bookmark.

"'The argument," he stumbled slightly, "that New England has got to settle in order to... pacify...the rest of America is: why where the... Pil...grims... allowed to land anywhere? That's what we want to know. Now I hope my... Cherokee..."

The soft voice died for a minute and Garrison tensed. Chief stared at the page and Garrison found himself waited for the blazing eyes to met his, for the anger at bring up the forbidden subject.

Chief looked up, expression guarded, a little rebellious. "This guy really Cherokee?" he demanded.

"Yes," Garrison answered. "He was born near Clarmont, Oklahoma."

The hard expression softened just a little, and Chief said softly, "My mom's Creek but we had some Cherokee neighbors." He picked up the book again. "Cherokee blood," Chief continued softly, "is not making me... prej..."

"Prejudice," Garrison supplied.

"Prejudice. I want to be broad-minded. But I am sure it was only the ex...treme... gener..."

"Generosity."

"Generosity of the Indians that allowed the Pilgrims to land." Chief paused, putting the stumbling words together. Very slowly a smile touched his guarded expression. "'Suppose we...reverse the case. Do you reckon the Pilgrims would ever let the Indians land? Not a chance!'"

And just as the drugs and gentle voice started to take him to sleep, Garrison heard Chief start to laugh. He dozed off feeling very pleased with himself.

"Warden?" Chief asked softly.

Garrison took his eyes off the chessboard. Chief held his gaze. "Yeah?"

Ignoring the game for a moment, Chief reached across to the bookshelf and pulled out the yellow legal pad he used for his 'homework'. He tore off a sheet. "Would you read this for me?"

Puzzled, Garrison reached for the sheet. He read the first two words and stopped, surprised and just a little uncomfortable. "This is personal, Chief."

Chief nodded. "Want to get it right. It's the first time."

Garrison returned to the reading. It was a letter to Chief's mother. True to Chief's nature, it was short and to the point, but through the painfully neat handwriting, and the grammar that was a little off, Garrison could read the pride in the words. He was surprised by the similar feeling that filled his chest. Looking up into the dark eyes, he reached out and squeezed Chief's arm.

"This is very good," he said. "You only misspelled one word and you need a comma here."

He handed the sheet back and watched as Chief added the comma and puzzled for just a minute over the spelling. The Indian looked up. "M-a-n-s-i-o-n?"

Garrison nodded. "Exactly."

As Chief made the correction, his earlier wording reached Garrison. "When you said this was the first time - that you've written her or that she's heard from you?"

For a moment he thought he'd overstepped the line. Chief suddenly looked very far away for an instant. Then he said, "First time in four years she's heard from me."

"Four years?" Garrison wondered. He started to ask why so long but realized he knew the answer to that. Chief wouldn't have asked for help. "Who wrote the last time?"

Chief shrugged slightly. "Got beat up in stir. Conned a nurse into writing since I couldn't sit up."

Thankful that he had not asked the wrong question, Garrison smiled. "Well, now you won't have to worry about conning anyone."

A pleased smile touched Chief's face. "Yeah."

"Mail call!" Garrison announced.

The mail, he had noticed had picked up as the years had gotten longer, as the cons became more comfortable with their new rolls as heroes. He handed Goniff a package.

Casino immediately leaned over the small thief's shoulder. "Mom send more cookies?"

Glaring at his companion, Goniff retreated to the couch near the fireplace. Casino kept a careful eye on him as he opened the box.

The next box went to Chief and Garrison smiled to himself as he noted the return address. Chief had been getting very regular letters from his family, though this was the first box Garrison could remember. The Indian took it and stepped back to let Actor retrieve his usual stack of perfumed letters. After handing a single letter to Casino, Garrison watched Chief uncover a book from it's heavy wrapping.

Curiosity made him ask, "What's the book, Chief?"

Chief held it out to him. It was old, though in good shape, a slim volume bound in leather. Garrison frowned at the title. "From The Plow to the Pulpit" by Geoffrey Crow."

He looked up to find Chief smiling. "Geoffrey Crow was my grandfather," he said proudly. "He was a Cherokee circuit riding preacher. He met my grandmother at a church in Wyoming. She was Crow. They moved back to Oklahoma and he wrote this."

The others crowded in, Actor and Casino both leaning over Garrison's shoulder to stare at the book. "Hey," Casino observed, "that's really keen."

Actor reached out and almost reverently took the book. "Would you mind if I borrowed this when you are finished?"

"Yeah, me too," Casino chimed in.

"You got to read it to me first, Chiefy," Goniff said.

Chief looked from one to the other, pride and disbelief evident in his expression. "You guys really want to read this?"

He was answered with a chorus of affirmatives. Garrison passed the book from Actor back. "Same for me, Chief."

"Okay, Warden," Chief said quietly.

Turning, he picked up the letter that had been in the package, crumbled the wrap and tossed it toward the trash can. The paper wad bounced against the wall and landed on the floor.

"Indian can't hit the side of a barn," Casino snorted.

Chief turned back, merely smiled at Casino and left the room, book tucked safe under his arm. Before Garrison could say anything, Casino laughed softly. Garrison looked over at him, saw the glint in his eyes.

"We did that, didn't we?" Casino questioned.

"What?" Goniff wondered.

"We took a word he's learned to hate and turned it into something he can be proud of, Goniff," Garrison explained.

He was answered with smiles all around.

Garrison knew before coming downstairs that Chief would still be there. Stepping into the doorway, he paused. The fire had died to embers, though there was still enough light to color the white paper stars on the Christmas tree. Chief was sitting on the floor in front of the fire, toothpick between his teeth, an open book near his knees.

"Chief," he said quietly, "are you okay?"

Chief stiffened, took a deep breath and sighed it out before he looked up at Garrison. The dark eyes were sad, colored with shadows that Garrison hadn't seen in a long time. Only a few hours earlier as they had celebrated their third Christmas together, Garrison had seen the worried look start. He had let it go, hoping the laughing, talking, the rumor that this would be the last Christmas of the war, would chase away whatever had started the worry.

For a while it seemed to have worked. Chief had been especially pleased with his gifts; a collection of Mark Twain from Actor, "Black Elk Speaks" from Garrison, a new knife from Goniff and a silk shirt from Casino. Garrison, Casino and Goniff's mothers had all sent Christmas cookies that were quickly passed around and devoured. But as the evening died down, the shadows had returned. Garrison sat down on the floor next to Chief.

"What's wrong?" he urged.

"Scared," Chief admitted softly.

Whatever Garrison had been expecting, this wasn't it. "Yeah," he also confessed. "Now that it's so close to being over..."

"No," Chief shook his head. "Afterward." He met Garrison's gaze. "I'm afraid of going back to what I was."

Garrison took a quick breath of his own. "Chief..."

"I don't know how to do much," Chief continued.

Touching his arm, Garrison said, "That might have been true once, Chief but not anymore. You know we'll all help. You're a great mechanic. You could open a garage or learn to build engines or go back to school and learn anything you like."

Chief frowned in consideration. "Yeah, maybe."

"What do you want to do?" Garrison asked.

"Stay with you guys." Chief said in embarrassment. "Do what we're doing."

"There's a chance to do that too," Garrison said firmly.

"Don't..." Chief started to snap something, then he saw the smile on Garrison's face. Suspension now took the place of the shadows. "How?" he ventured cautiously.

"Chief, I have been approached by so many agencies that want to hire us that my desk looks like alphabet soup," Garrison laughed.

"Yeah?" Chief said hopefully.

"Yeah." Garrison reached out and patted his shoulder. "We just have to convince the others."

The smile Chief gave him was wide and easy, filled with relief and happiness. "Won't be hard."

They sat for another few minutes in the peace that exist between friends. Finally, the night caught up with Garrison and he yawned. "After the next mission, we'll have to talk about the offers with the others."

He came to his feet, offered Chief a hand up. Chief shook it off. "Gonna read a little longer."

Garrison started for the door. "Don't read them all in one..."

"Warden?" Chief questioned.

He turned back. "Yeah?"

The glowing eyes met his. "Some lessons are worth waiting for."

Garrison fought off the absurd tightness in his throat, excused it as too much Christmas cheer. "Some people are worth teaching them to."

Once more Garrison turned to leave, and once more Chief called to him. When the turned this time he thought he could see the amusement in Chief's expression.

"Hey, Warden, do you think you could teach me German?"

Garrison started laughing. "I've created a monster. How about Russian?" He counter offered. "I think we may all need that one."

"Merry Christmas, Warden," Chief said with a smile.

Nodding, Garrison agreed. "I think it's gonna be a good year, too."