When the boys got back to the trailer their dad was already there, and so was their mother. That was a surprise. They didn't know where she had gone or when she would come back. They wished she would be there  with them and their dad all the time, but they were glad to see her. She was standing at the stove frying fish, as though she had never been away.

Robert saw that her eyes were bloodshot, her face was drawn and haggard, and her hands were trembling. He knew what that meant, too, and so did Louis. She was just coming off a drunk. But they didn't say anything to her about it. It would only make her mad.

"I had a phone call from Sterling on the reserve this afternoon," their dad said.  "Somebody broke into Broucher's place last night when they were visiting friends. It was really torn apart. The TV was smashed, their living room furniture was slashed, windows were broken out, and the labels on all their canned goods were torn off.  From what he said, they really wrecked the place."

"I don't see why he phoned you," Rita snapped. "You couldn't do anything about it."

Frank did not answer her.

"Tawana's gone," she continued angrily, "and the boys were over at the lodge. They couldn't have had anything to do with it."

"He wasn't accusing them of anything. He just was warning us to be careful so we wouldn't be next."

"It sounds like somebody's trying to get even with somebody," she said, more to herself than her husband and sons.

"Neither Mr. or Mrs. Broucher even knew about what happened until we told them," Frank said.

"Jim did go to the Council and Sterling," Rita reminded him. "I suppose that's what upset them."

"Now they think something might happen over here," Louis said, uneasily. "Right, Dad?"

"Sterling says he doesn't really know that there's any connection, but he wanted us to know what had happened to the Broucher's - just in case somebody might have it in for us because we went to him."

The following morning when the boys got up, Robert heard someone moving stealthily toward their trailer door.  He crept toward it as quietly as possible and threw the door open. A boy about Louis's age was standing there, the hammer poised to pound a nail holding another warning to the door.

"Hey you!  What's, going on?"

At the sound of Robert's voice he dropped the hammer and started to run, but he only got a dozen steps before Robert grabbed him with both arms.

"Martin!" he exclaimed. "What're you doing? What's going on here?"

The boy was about Louis's age and size. His dark hair was long and his eyes reflected his terror.

"I thought you had gone to the lodge. I-I didn't want to do it, Robert! Honest, I didn't.  These two guys came and told me they'd beat up on me if I didn't come over here and put this sign on your door. I thought it was a joke. Honest, I did."

By that time Frank Yazzie was there, asking the same questions.

"You know everybody on the reserve, Martin!" he exclaimed. "Who got you to do this?"

"It wasn't anybody from the reserve! I swear! I'd never seen them before. Honest, I hadn't. They stopped me out in the bush and told me they'd break both of my arms, if I did not do it."

"Let's go inside," the boys' dad said, taking the intruder firmly by the arm. "We've got to get to the bottom of this."

As they started inside Robert caught a flash of sunlight in the bush, as though someone hiding there was wearing a watch or perhaps a bright pin on his cap - something that reflected the sunlight.  He whirled and dashed into the bush, but he was not in time.  Whoever was there, saw him turn and crashed noisily away.

Frank Yazzie talked with Martin a long while, questioning him in great detail, but he was not able to shake the boy's story.

"You know I'm going to have to call the tribal police, don't you?"

Martin glared defiantly at him. "Call them if you want to. I've told you everything I know."

Frank stood. "I'll phone him from my office. He'll be around to talk to you."

The boy's lips trembled uncertainly, but his voice was still firm. "It isn't going to change anything. I've told you everything I know."

The officer went to Martin's home and questioned him. No, he didn't know the fellows who got him to nail the sign on the Yazzie door, he said. He'd never seen them before.  There were two of them - both big guys. One had a scar on his face and the other had a big nose.

"His face looked all bashed in, like it had been run over by a truck," he concluded.

The tribal police wasn't satisfied that Martin was telling the truth, and warned him not to leave.

"I'll have to talk to you again," he said.

For an instant Martin wavered, as though he might be wanting to change his story.  Mr. Davis noticed it and turned back. "What is it, Martin?" he asked.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

He called the boy back inside and questioned him once more, asking the same questions again and again.

"I was just going to say that the man who gave me a dollar to take those signs over to the Yazzie trailer and nail them on the door wasn't from our reserve. He wasn't even Indian."

"What was his name?"

"He didn't say."

"What did he look like?"

"I already told you. He was a great big guy with light, sort of greasy hair. He was wearing a pair of cowboy boots."

"Why didn't you tell me that before?"

Martin swallowed hard. "I was scared to. I was awful scared. He-he said he'd cut off my ears if I told anyone about him."

"You didn't believe that, did you?"

The boy's expression changed. "Not really, but I figured he'd be awful mad at me if I didn't do everything he said."

The officer made a notation in his book. "I'll be back to talk to you again," he said.  "The next time I want your folks with you."

Martin managed a thin laugh. "You'll have to find 'em first. Mom ran off with some guy who got fired from the mine and Dad said he wasn't playing nursemaid to a bunch of kids, so he took off, too. We don't know where they went or when they'll be back."

"Who's taking care of you?"

"The neighbor lady took in the two littlest girls," he said, "and Mona has a job cleaning at the lodge. Mostly I pick up pop cans and run errands for Mr. Thompson at the lodge. I eat in the kitchen after everybody else is through."

"Does Jim Broucher know about this?"

Martin shook his head. "And I'm sure not going to tell him. If he finds out, he'll ship me off somewhere."

The officer made another note in his book. "Get in with me," he said.

The boy hung back, fear clouding his eyes. "What're you going to do with me?"

"Try to find someone who'll take care of you," the officer said.

"You won't send me away, will you?"

Sterling hesitated. "That depends. I'll try not to."

"I'll run away!"

He opened the car door on the passenger's side and the boy got in and fastened his seat belt.

"For now, I'm going to take you home with me."

*  *  *

Robert and Louis watched the car leave the trailer and head for the road that led to the reserve.

"Do you think he's telling the truth?" the younger Yazzie boy asked.

"About what?"

"About the guy who is supposed to have paid him to put up those signs."

Robert shook his head. "I don't know. And that's the pure truth."

*  *  *

Hudson came into Frank Yazzie's office and talked to him about Robert taking McDonald fishing.

"Do you think he knows where to catch fish or should I send you with Angus?  We've got to keep him happy. That means seeing that he gets a lot of fish and doesn't get bitten by mosquitoes or rained on."

"I can take him if you want me to," Frank said, "but I'm not a native. I know all about herding sheep, but I don't know too much about fishing here. Why don't we try Robert a few days. Then if you want me to give him a whirl, Robert can show me where to go and I'll get along OK."

"Can he cook him a meal?"

Frank laughed. "He couldn't bake a cake or fix some of those fancy things rich people eat, but he can open a can of beans and heat them over the fire. He can make good bannock and fry fish. I think he can get by in that department."

Hudson nodded. "The main thing is to see that McDon ald catches lots of fish. So many he'll have to throw most of them back."

"He'll do his best. To tell you the truth, he'll probably do a lot better than I would."

Clyde Hudson, who ran the mine, smiled. "I know he will. I just want to make it clear to you how important it is that McDonald is happy here."

"And that applies to his wife?"

"Louis is doing a good job with her. She thinks he's about the greatest kid she ever saw. The only thing he's worrying about is that she might want to take him home with them."

"They'd probably bring him back in a week."

"Don't you believe it. That kid of yours is doing great. You've done a good job with them."

"I can't take any credit for that, and neither can Rita."

"I suppose you're going to tell me that it's your religion that makes them the way they are."

Frank was silent momentarily. "It's sure helped," he replied.

"I seem to remember that they were with your wife's dad and mother most of the time."

"I wasn't much of a father in those days," he said. "I'll have to admit that. And I've been sorry for the way I left them for someone else to take care of"

Hudson pulled in a deep breath. "I suppose it is good to help steer kids on the right path."

"Walking with Christ is good for us old fogies, too," Frank added.

The superintendent's features crimsoned. "I'll take your word for that." As he spoke he got to his feet and started away, but turned back. "There's a bonus for you and something for the boys if the three of you can keep Angus and Verda McDonald happy until they decide they've had enough of the north woods and have to get back to civilization."

"Just doing my job," Frank told him.

The superintendent started out, but with his hand on the doorknob, he turned back once more. "You know, Frank, when I see your kids and the way you work and take care of them, I get to thinking you must have something in that religion of yours."

*  *  *