2 – Distracted

No houses. No farms. Not a power line in sight. No cell phone service. Tall grass for as far as the eye can see and mountains casting giant shadows in the distance. Not a cloud in the pale blue sky. That had been what attracted me, distracted me, and now it was what trapped me. Damn.

Not like it was the first time I'd been stranded somewhere, but I usually had at least one of my team with me. We never went anywhere alone. At least I didn't have to worry about warlords or land mines or lions… I smiled at that. Kuru had been a cub when he first started hanging around the base. He came and went as he pleased but always seemed to know when I was back. The team used to joke that I was his momma because he'd follow me everywhere. He scratched me once while playing which left scars on my right arm, and every time he greeted me after that, he'd nuzzle the marks. Geez, I missed him.

Unhitching the camper and tying Sugar on a long leash, I started emptying the trunk to reach the spare tire. Stupid that they don't put these things in a more convenient place. Working the jack and raising the back end, driver's side, I considered just how tight the lug nuts might be. Did I have something to hit the tire iron with if they were stuck? I rotated my left shoulder and stretched my right side. The injuries that I was recovering from were still fresh enough to groan under pressure. Taking a swig of water from a warming bottle, I inhaled deeply, took hold of the tire iron and began to work.

The sun was high. Sweat dripped from the end of my nose and down my spine. Sugar had given up watching me to curl up in the shade of the camper. After an hour, I only had three nuts off and decided to take a break. Sitting beside the pup, leaning against the bumpy ridging of the camper, the ground began the rumble under my butt. Carefully standing, I saw the dust trail in the distance as a car drove toward us. Shielding my eyes from the glare, I stepped behind the car with the tire iron tight in my fist.

The white Ford Ranger with blue writing on the side came to a halt, and a man with dark skin, long black hair, and thin face stepped out taking position in front of his truck. He wasn't a tall man, but his scowl and uniform had my jaw and my grip tighten. Tribal police. Never a good sign. Where I was from tribal police meant one of three things – imprisonment, torture, or death. Warlords ruled. Appropriate reaction was survival. Read him.

"You're trespassing." His hands were on his narrow hips. His chin jutted out in my direction. Proud. Serious, but not entirely hostile. Tough.

"The land is beautiful." I rapidly read his body language and reverted to my training in diplomacy. Be sincere, respectful. "It's unmarred by human progress. Natural. My apologies, I didn't realize I was trespassing. I have a flat tire, and was trying to change it."

The officer leaned slightly to the right as if to confirm my situation. With his thumbs hooked in his belt loops, he slowly sauntered forward to examine my work. At this, Sugar stood and began to walk toward him. He startled but coolly recovered. I wanted to smile, to reassure him, but kept a sincere face and called "sit" to Sugar instead. She obediently sat, and the officer eyed the two of us carefully.

"She's gentle," I reassured.

He said nothing but wandered around the car while I back stepped keeping the car between us. He watched me curiously, his stone face never changing expression.

"Tire iron," he commanded, holding out his right hand palm up.

I paused but listened to my gut. Handing it over, I placed the straight end on the flat of his hand. He gripped it and silently went to work finishing my job.

Within the hour, the replacement tire was attached, the flat and jack were stored, and I was hitching up the camper.

I had handed him a wet cloth to wash his hands and offered him a cold bottle of water.

"Thank you," I said, a slow, friendly smile growing.

He nodded assent and took a long, deep drink, nearly finishing the water in one shot.

"Where were you heading?" he asked as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

"Not sure," I replied. "I've just come down from the Crow Reservation and the Little Bighorn Monument." I spread my map on the hot hood of the car, showing him where I had connected the dots so far.

He stood beside me looking at the map, his dark eyes following the lines.

"You're far from home," he said. "Dangerous. A woman alone. Anything can happen." His words were short but not threatening. More matter-of-fact.

I nodded. "I'm aware. More aware now since the tire." I grinned.

His lips twitched upward slightly before the serious line set in again.

"If you're looking to camp, most are still closed. There are a few free sites nearby that might be open, but I wouldn't recommend them. What are you're looking for?"

I smiled. This was the most he'd said since we'd met.

"Solitude," I replied. "Space. I don't like reaching out to touch my neighbor."

He smiled this time and nodded. "You might find something near the Big Horn National Park." He pointed at the map, drawing a line with his finger. "You're here. Follow this way. It's on the other side of the I-90. South end of the Big Horn Forest. Nearest town is Durant. You'll need to replace the tire." He pointed to the car.

I folded the map and untied Sugar, putting her in the back seat. "Thank you again." I reached out my hand.

He looked at it suspiciously then gripped it to shake once, letting go quickly.

"You're on Cheyenne land. Drive straight through. Don't stop. You should be fine." He waved me off as he strolled back to his truck, swinging the door open and sliding in.

With Sugar in her usual spot, windows rolled down, we headed off again.