Mercenary Wolf

Ch 14

I stood in the front doorway wanting to tear into that young punk! How dare that little shit steal my bottle! Wanting to and doing however were two different things. I had his dad standing at my shoulder!

The kid dug through his saddlebags. He set a jar on the bike's seat. Then he reached in again, pulling out a package wrapped in brown paper.

I heard a sudden indrawn breath next to me. The dad nudged his way past me, but stopped after a few steps.

"You'll need a fire," he said, then headed to the back yard.

The kid held out my bottle. I went over slowly. The dad's reaction to that package had me hesitating. He closed up the saddlebags.

"Mac, among my mother's people, well, it's probably different than you're used to. Just bear with me. This is my first time using it. Come on."

The guys followed me as I followed the kid to the back yard. I held the bottle loosely, curious about what was in the package that would be better than my bottle.

The dad had a small fire started in my back yard. I wanted to complain but didn't dare. The two of them sat on the far side, waiting for me. I made an awkward attempt at a cross legged position.

"Sit however Mac, doesn't matter," the kid said.

There was a certain amount of reverence to his motions. He fed the paper to the fire. He held a long leather pouch with a wolf's head worked in beads. He untied the pouch and slid out the contents. He held up an Indian style long-stemmed pipe in both hands. I didn't understand why he looked at it the way he did, like it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

I understood even less when I saw the dad had tears streaming down his face. This wasn't killer black wolf! What was this? I couldn't think of anything that would make him weep unashamedly. Whatever was happening, it obviously had great significance for them... and they were willing to share it with me.

The kid took enough puffs to start it. He became very formal, speaking in what I assumed was his mother's language. He moved the pipe in four directions, then up and down.

He took a puff, held it, closed his eyes, released it. A second puff, he looked at me, closed his eyes again. A third. He opened his eyes, releasing the smoke. He passed the pipe to his dad.

I watched, trying to figure how this had anything to do with anything. I figured I should be ticked. Maybe it was the booze, but I was more bemused.

The dad puffed, drawing the smoke in deep, holding it, releasing it slowly. It was like watching him relax as he released the smoke. He passed the pipe back to his son.

The fire wasn't very big to begin with and was dying down. The black wolf dad was up, directing my men to get more wood. That left me looking at the kid.

The kid, Little Wolf, put his hand on my arm. I felt the camaraderie he offered. I had a feeling there was more to it than that, but I couldn't name whatever it might be.

He handed me the pipe.

I looked at it for a second. I had given over my keys because I had been tempted by the meds. I didn't know what was in the pipe. Somehow though, I couldn't refuse, not when he was looking at me with such compassion. I set my bottle down and took the pipe. Just to be courteous, I took a short draw.