"Clay? Just because the other monks are finished training does not mean you are," Master Fung said primly.
The big cowboy sighed. He wasn't really surprised; he knew Master Fung would be enacting some sort of punishment for daring to kiss a girl. The other monks gave him looks that varied from confusion to sympathy.
Clay followed Master Fung back into the courtyard and was startled to see Master Monk Guan waiting.
"Master Monk Guan? What are you doin' here, sir?"
"Master Fung has told me of your . . . . distraction. I'm here to help you train a little harder," the ancient warrior said calmly.
"Master Monk Guan was the Dragon of Earth long ago," Master Fung added. "He can help you advance your elemental powers."
"That's right nice a' ya, Master Monk Guan, sir," Clay said politely. "But if'n you think you can just iexhaust/i me int' forgettin' about girls in general an' JB in particular, ya got another think comin'."
The two teaching monks stared at the blonde for a moment.
"We shall see," Master Monk Guan said quietly.
"Clay? Your father is on the phone again and he says he will not hang up until you speak with him," Master Fung announced.
Clay nodded and dragged himself into the teaching monk's office. The receiver was sitting next to the phone, because Master Fung had never bothered to learn how to put people on hold. The big Texan closed the door behind him and picked up the receiver.
"Hello, Daddy."
"It's about damn time! You ever avoid talkin' t' me like that again an' I'll tan your hide! You'll find yourself on the first plane back t' Texas so fast it'll make your head spin!" His father's deep baritone bellowed.
Clay was silent for a minute.
"How are things back home?" He asked softly.
There was a pause on Mr. Bailey's end.
"Are the new calves on th' ground yet?" Clay asked. "I bet the mulberry trees are bloomin' now. It's almost time for Founder's Day in Abilene, ain't it? Remember how we us'd t' go see th' cowboy poets at th' Western Heritage Classic an' Mama an' Jessie always us'd t' roll their eyes an' say how sensitive th' Bailey men were?"
"Dang, Clay," Mr. Bailey said quietly. "You're makin' me homesick an' I iam/i home."
A small, sad sound escaped from the Dragon of Earth's throat.
"Wait a minute," Mr. Bailey growled, some of the thunder coming back to his voice. "You was in Laredo a few weeks ago! Your Aunt Clarabelle saw you there with some girl!"
"Oh, that," Clay murmured.
"Yes, ithat/i. Clarabelle said she look'd like she was on th' job, but you tried t' pass her off as your girlfriend! Do you know how upset your Mama was that you come back t' Texas an' didn't stop t' see her?!"
"I'm sorry, Daddy!" Clay blurted. "We was Shen-Gong-Wu huntin'!"
"An' that Tejano girl?" Mr. Bailey prompted.
"What Tejano girl? Wait; JB ain't Tejano! She's Native American!"
"JB? What's that stand for, Jo Beth?"
"Johnny Betty."
"Well, I can't see anybody fakin' a name like that," Mr. Bailey growled.
Clay made an irritated noise.
"Why's everybody say that?! Johnny's a cute name on a girl! There's boys named Terry an' Kim an' Kelly; why not a girl named Johnny?!"
Eight thousand miles away, unseen by his son, Ward Bailey raised an eyebrow. His boy had always been laid back to the point of being a push-over. When Clay protested about something, it was usually because that particular nerve had been worked to the point of rawness.
"She's Native American? What tribe?" Ward asked.
"Uh . . . ." Why did people want to know all the gritty details? "I . . . don't know," Clay admitted.
"What ido/i ya know about her?"
"I know she's a sweet girl who's been dealt a bad hand and just needs a damn chance!"
"I heard this all from my own sister, Clay. You callin' your Aunt Clarabelle a liar?" Bailey Senior challenged.
"I ain't callin' Aunt Clarabelle a liar! She just don' know th' whole story!" Clay insisted.
"So what iis/i th' whole story?"
Clay hesitated, but slowly told his father about Johnny Betty. He explained how she had fallen in with Jack after escaping from an anti-gay camp; a camp she'd only been sent to because her father's choice of a potential husband for her had damn near scared her lesbian. He explained about their first meeting, and how he had insisted she was finer than the company she now kept. The tension between them had erupted in Laredo and Clay had found himself with a gorgeous Native girl in his arms, locked in a tight clinch when his Aunt Clarabelle had walked in.
The Dragon of Earth explained that he'd made it his mission to bring JB over to the side of good, but every time he tried, his fellow monks either turned up their noses at the idea of converting her, or slobbered over her like she was a pin-up calendar. The sneering hurt Johnny Betty's feelings, while the slobbering reminded her of the rough handling she'd received from her former affianced.
Either way, she seemed to have latched on to Clay as the only person she truly trusted or opened up to.
"I see. . . . ." the elder Bailey said quietly. "So, what do you think a' her?"
"What?" Clay had just spent fifteen minutes talking about JB; how could his father not know how he felt.
"Well, d'ya like her? You know she likes you; do you feel th' same way about her?" Mr. Bailey asked. "Or is it just sympathy?"
Clay blinked.
He had never really thought about it before; he knew he wanted JB to not be evil. The last time they had met, though . . . . he had held her and kissed her and it had been wonderful. But . . . had that just been the pleasure of kissing a beautiful girl? How would he know the difference?
"'Clean dirt'," he murmured to himself.
"What?"
"She said 'clean dirt'," Clay murmured. "She understands about th' beauty a' livin' out in th' country. She's sweet. She's strong. An' she's a real good kisser. I'm not gonna get silly an' say I'm in love with her . . . . but I think I could, given time."
Mr. Bailey considered this.
"Be real careful, Clay," the big cattleman said. "You always been soft-hearted. Make sure this Lonesome Dove don't break your heart."
"I'll be careful, Daddy," he said quietly.
"See that you do," Mr. Bailey said. "Tell your friends I said 'Hey'."
"I will. Bye, Daddy!"
"Good bye, Clay," Mr. Bailey said. "Take care. Love ya, boy."
"Love you, too, Daddy," Clay returned.
The Dragon of the Earth hung up the phone feeling lighter inside than he had in a long time.
"Through meditation and stillness do we reach the state of zen. Through focus and zen, we can reach beyond our physical bodies and see the infinite. Through many, many years of focus, we can achieve enlightenment. But we can only achieve enlightenment by ignoring the physical," Master Monk Guan intoned, keeping himself balanced in the full lotus position even though the platform he sat on heaved and trembled.
"I don't agree," Clay managed to gasp.
The master monk raised an eyebrow.
"You don't agree? Clay, you ido/i know the Four Noble Truths of Zen; recite them for me."
"iHah/i, Life is sufferin'," Clay panted, sweat rolling down his face. "Sufferin' is caused by selfish cravin'. Selfish cravin' can be overcome. An' th' Eightfold Path t' overcome sufferin'."
"Very good," Guan said, nodding. "And what iis/i the Eightfold Path?"
"R-right understanding. Right purpose. Right speech. Right con-iduct/i. Right livelihood. Right effort. Right alertness. Right concentration," Clay grunted, toiling and laboring away.
"What exactly do you disagree with in this path to achieve all-pervading emptiness and bliss?"
"Th' 'empty' part," the Dragon of the Earth snarled, forcing himself to push away from the earth a few scant centimeters from his nose.
"To achieve enlightenment—"
"The zen Master Ma-tsu believed enlightenment could be achieved by beatin' th' crap outta his students," Clay panted. "I like th' precepts a' Buddhism relatin' t' focus on the simpler things and helpin' others. But I don't think all suffering in th' world comes from desire." The big blonde paused to regain his breath, earning a strike to the back of the head from the shaft of Guan's spear.
"Greed is a dangerous emotion, Clay."
"Greed's different than desire," Clay continued. "Desire's what made man come down outta th' trees and dream a' somethin' better. Desire's what prompts a man to chase after a woman, an' what creates new children. Ya think nobody's ever achieved enlightenment holdin' their firstborn? Or sugglin' with th' love a' their life? It's real easy t' talk about blissful emptiness with a full belly. Somebody's gotta be th' one t' sweat an' toil in th' sun t' grow food an' make clothes so imonks/i can sit on their backsides and ponder th' infinite."
"You think your duties at the Temple leave you lax?" Master Monk Guan asked.
"We train. We clean an' cook for ourselves. We don' grow anything or imake/i anything." Pausing in the push-up set that was currently turning his arms into noodles, Clay got a sudden flash of the beautiful beads Johnny Betty had stitched onto his boots. "Desire causes ya t' make beautiful things . . . whether t' impress someone or just t' make somethin' beautiful; desire is what causes that. Desire is what pulled us up outta th' mud, Master Monk Guan. Don't get all high-falutin' about it."
Master Monk Guan extended one leg and kicked Clay in the back of the head. The already-exhausted Dragon collapsed on his belly, the Dragon of the Earth long ago balanced on his shoulders.
"So, you feel ridding the world of evil is unproductive? Very well, young monk. I will show you the meaning of 'unproductive'."