She drew back, looked up at him, worry darkening her blue eyes. “You’ll be safe up there, won’t you?”
His wife was one of the strongest people he knew, but his last brush with death had left her grappling with post-traumatic stress. She’d watched terrorists drag him away to kill him, had heard a gunshot, and had believed him dead for long, agonizing minutes. She was doing much better now, nineteen months later, but she still worried every time he left home.
He smoothed a strand of hair from her cheek. “This is just a training exercise. We’re going to run around in the forest pretending to chase bad guys—just a bunch of boys playing with toys.”
What could possibly go wrong?
Naomi Belcourt steppedout of the women’s staff bunkhouse and walked toward the Dining Hall, rubbing the ache in her lower back. She’d never been seven months pregnant before and hadn’t realized how uncomfortable it would be to sleep in a bunk. But there were only four days left before this second session ended. She could deal with it.
The day was bright and sunny, the sky overhead blue, the air fresh with the scent of ponderosa pines. Ahead of her, groups of campers ran, hopped, skipped, and jostled their way to breakfast with their counselors, their happy laughter making her smile.
This was her dream.
Naomi had grown up not knowing who she was. Abandoned in an alley as a newborn by her birth mother—a teenage white girl—she’d been adopted by a family of religious extremists who had raised her with warped ideas about women and “heathen Indians,” beating her when she dared to challenge them. She’d run away from home at the age of sixteen when her adoptive father had tried to marry her off to a much older man against her wishes. She had waited tables to put herself through art school, but she hadn’t known anything about her true heritage until she’d met Chaska.
Chaska and his sister Winona had saved Naomi’s life after a couple of escaped cons had attacked her while she’d been camping not far from Scarlet Springs. As she’d recovered, Chaska had helped her uncover the truth about her past, finding her biological father, teaching her about Lakota traditions, and sweeping her off her feet. He’d married her in a traditional Lakota ceremony, giving her father a bride price of twenty-two horses—or rather, a 22-horsepower riding lawnmower.
She’d spent time on the reservation with Chaska, had learned to speak Lakota, and had gotten to know her blood family—her father Doug, his wife Star, and her half brothers and sisters—Mato, Chumani, Chayton, and Kimímila.
Somewhere along the way, the idea for this camp had begun to form in her mind. She had held several fundraisers and written dozens of grant applications to get the start-up money. Once she and Chaska had gathered the funds, they’d bought this old summer camp, repaired the cabins and dining hall, erected a tipi in the center, hired a crew to build an archery range and ropes course, and recruited Lakota counselors to run the day-to-day operation.
Now, Camp Mato Sapa—Camp Black Bear—was in its second year with three, two-week sessions that served 120 kids each summer. It was a place where Lakota children could come at no cost to their families to learn about their culture and traditional values, have fun in the outdoors, build their confidence, and escape the hardship that many of them faced at home.
Naomi served as the camp’s director and taught art classes, while still running her shop, Tanagila’s. She had never imagined that her life could be so rich and full.
She looked for Chaska but didn’t see him. He was an early riser and had probably beaten her to the Dining Hall. Then Naomi spotted Kat James. Kat, a Navajo, was there with her husband, Gabe Rossiter, and their three children, Alissa, Nakai, and Noelle, who rode on her father’s shoulders. They had spent the night in one of the guest cabins so that Gabe could be here to help Chaska supervise the kids on the ropes course this morning. The two men knew each other through the Rocky Mountain Search & Rescue Team—called the Team by locals—and both were world-class rock climbers. Hanging on ropes was their idea of a good time.
Naomi waved. “Was the cabin comfortable?”
“It was great. Thanks.” Gabe swung little Noelle to the ground.
Kat took the toddler’s hand. “It was really windy last night.”
“Did it keep you awake?”
“Oh, no. I kind of like it.”
Naomi and Kat talked about odds and ends as they walked the rest of the way to the Dining Hall—how Naomi was feeling, how fresh the air was high in the mountains, how vital it was for children to spend time in nature.
Naomi watched Gabe as they walked, amazed at how confidently he moved on his prosthesis. He’d lost his left leg below the knee in a desperate attempt to save Kat’s life many years ago, but it hadn’t slowed him down.
“I heard we’ve got a red flag warning again today.” Gabe, who’d once been a park ranger, reached out to open the Dining Hall door for them, the mingled scents of bacon and coffee making Naomi’s stomach growl.
“Let’s hope we get rain soon. The land needs it.” She followed Kat through the door into the Dining Hall—and stopped short.
Chaska and another camp counselor were breaking up a fight between two of the older boys, the other children watching with wide eyes from the food line.
Gabe hurried to help, stepping between the two boys.
Chaska caught hold of Dean, the bigger of the two, and held him back.
“Let me go!” Dean struggled to free himself.
Dean had been a problem since he’d arrived, breaking the rules, using rough language, and bullying the other children. Naomi could have expelled him, but she suspected that what they saw in his behavior was only a reflection of the violence he experienced at home. She didn’t have the heart to send him back to that.
“He punched me!” Mervin, the smaller boy, got to his feet, fists clenched.
“Ini´la ya?ka´ po! Quiet!” Grandpa Belcourt bellowed.