It still felt a little strange to Danny for him to be welcoming Debbie home at her door after work the next evening, but a big loving kiss melted away a lot of the strangeness. They’d already made up their minds the night before that they wouldn’t do dinner the first thing, but go for a run – those had been a little shorted the past couple of weeks, and they’d both missed doing it together. Since it was a warm July evening, Debbie pulled on her one-piece swimsuit and a pair of running shorts, just to be dressed a little lighter, and they set off down Lakeshore.

Along the way, they passed Randy and Nicole’s house, noticed him out on the lawnmower, and gave him a wave. "We dumped a pretty good load on him today," Danny commented, "but he wants to have some numbers ready for Phil the first of the week."

"It moved along pretty good, I take it?"

"Yeah, real good," Danny said. "Maybe a little too good. But let’s save that for later. That’s one of those things I need the katara consultation on."

On the way back, they stopped for a swim in the backwater. The water was a little warmer now, and felt good instead of shockingly chilling after their run, so they spent a few minutes in horseplay. In fact, it cooled them off so well that they decided to enjoy some other recreational activities in the bedroom before dinner.

For the last several weeks, one of the things they’d been working on was his hangup about making love in the nude, a hangover from his nudist days. It was something he’d never managed to overcome with Marsha, but she’d never been interested in overcoming it, either. He and Debbie hadn’t quite cracked it yet, but were getting close; they’d gotten to the point where each of them wearing some kind of wristband, usually some of her hair scrunchies, was clothing enough. Danny wouldn’t mind getting rid of the rest of that hangup entirely, but could make it work with that – the possibility did exist that he was going to have to go out to the Club again sometime sooner or later.

Sated at least momentarily, they got dressed in shorts and T-shirts, and headed outside so Danny could get started on dinner. He’d gotten some self-lighting charcoal over the course of the day, but still didn’t mess around. About half a can of lighter fluid insured that there was a serious blaze for a few minutes, but the coals were soon ready.

While the steaks were sizzling, and they sat in the chairs beside the grill, Debbie asked, "Now, what was it you needed the katara consultation on? Something about the store moving too quickly?"

"Not so much that," he frowned. "It’s just that I can’t get over the idea that Jennifer and Blake are trying to pull a fast one on me, and Phil is probably in on it."

"Why would they want what little money you have?" she cocked her head with a questioning expression. "They’re pretty rich."

"It’s not so much money, at least the normal way," Danny shook his head. "A couple points of background. Jennifer had a pot load of money even back while I was in high school. My understanding is that somewhere along about the time she met Blake, she pretty well offered to set Mom and Dad up so they could retire, and would never have to work again. They turned her down flat. The simple reason is that they like to work; that’s what they’re meant to do; they’d go nuts if they weren’t doing something. Dad already knew it. He was retired from the Army, after all. Anyway, this was no secret. Garth was already gone, in college by then, but Brandy and Tara and I knew about the offer and the folk’s response when it happened. So, we got our heads together, and agreed among ourselves that if the folks wouldn’t take Jennifer’s money, none of the rest of us would, either. That’s been the way it’s been ever since. A couple times Jennifer has loaned us small amounts of money, but we’ve always paid it back with interest as quickly as possible, usually over her protests. Call it Evachevski pride. We want to stand on our own feet, not mooch off our lucky sister."

"I’ve never heard it said quite like that," she replied. "But it’s pretty obvious among the three of you."

"That’s true," he continued. "Brandy and Phil hit it big on their own, of course, but they went through some lean years before they got there. I don’t think Tara is going to be that rich, but she’s getting more commissions for more money, so should be hitting an income in six figures this year or next year. At least, that was the message I got when I visited Sylvia and her last spring. But, after everything was said and done, I came back last winter with about ten bucks to my name after all the bills were paid."

"And Jennifer is trying to even things up a little for you, that’s what you’re thinking, right?"

"Pretty much," he sighed. "It’s a little more complicated than that since she knows I’ll turn her down. But with her and Blake and Phil handling the financing on this thing, what’s going to happen that I won’t be able to see?"

"You know, Danny," she smiled. "Some people may think I’m strange, but you may be stranger. You are actually trying to keep people from giving you money. Oh, I understand why you don’t want to take it, because you still have your pride, no matter how much Marsha wounded it."

"It may even be stronger because of it," Danny said as he got up to flip the steaks over. "The thing of it is, Jennifer has got me staked out pretty good because of Dad. He has worked too hard, taken too much time for the store, and the way he’s acted the last few months just shows it. I’m not saying I have to send out a search party to drag him into the store so I can go get on a train, but he’s got other things to do in the summer. He wants to keep his hand in the business, so he’ll have something to do in the slow times. That’s where I fit in. You already know how the business isn’t big enough for both of us right now, which is the point of this exercise, anyway. Debbie, this summer has been a killer, especially with trying to be with you on top of working two jobs, and I don’t want to go through another one like it. But I’ve been pushing since I feel I need to build up my reserves a little bit since I’ll probably only be part time in the winter. Again, you know that."

"But if the store plans go through, in another year, at the most two, there’ll be enough for a full time income for you and your father, plus something to help pay off the debt, right?"

"Probably," he sighed. "I haven’t got as far as a business plan, but if things went all right, it should be something like that. Realistically, buying out Dad’s share of the business comes out of the same pot as his income, so that’s pretty much a wash so long as I’m available to be there when he’s not. But it’s a hell of a big risk, and if it falls through, I’m sitting on a hell of a debt. Since the debt would be owed to Jennifer, she probably wouldn’t be in all that big a hurry to get her money back, but I’d feel like I owed it to her."

"How big a debt?"

"Hard to say," Danny shrugged. "It sort of depends. I’d pretty well figured on doing the building myself, financing it through Jennifer. We’re probably talking a quarter to a half million in the building alone. But Phil is already getting cute, probably at Jennifer and Blake’s urging. He wants to set up a corporation between him and Jennifer and Blake, maybe with Dad and me in on it, maybe not. The corporation builds the building and owns it, and the store and the studio would rent the space. That would mean that if the store did overreach and fold, we’d basically be only hanging for the merchandise."

"I don’t know what you’re complaining about," Debbie snorted. "If things were to work out, the corporation is going to make money. If it doesn’t, it’s going to lose. That’s called risk. The corporation is not going to lose in the long run, with that much major modern space available downtown. It might not work that well if the empty space was out on the state road or way out on Central, but downtown in Spearfish Lake under those circumstances is not a losing proposition. I talk to enough people downtown to know. That isn’t katara stuff, that’s Debbie-the-ad-salesman stuff."

"You think?"

"I more than think. Danny, you’re looking through your pride the hard way on this. I grant you, you’ve got family greasing the skids for you, but for them it’s a perfectly legitimate investment that will leave all parties better off than they were before. I may be a katara, but I did take a business class or two."

"Well, all right, if you think so," he sighed. "It’s just that I feel like I’ve been dragged into this faster than I wanted."

"Probably so," she smiled. "But I think it was Mark Twain that said, ‘When it’s steamboat time, you steam.’ Korican, you blew the whistle yourself."

"I know," he said. "Debbie, this is going so fast that it probably isn’t going to be long before there’s no turning back. I just want to remind you that this is going to affect you, too."

"I’m going to complain about having my man working more or less regular business hours, and not having to get up in the middle of the night to make love to him?" she snorted. "Or just be with him when he gets home?"

"I mean there may be some parts where you’re going to have to have an active, hands-on part of it," he said. "Especially during the expansion, you’re going to be an important part of the market research."

"So? I’d be disappointed if you didn’t ask. Danny, I realize we’ve only been together a month, but I’m with you, and I don’t want to do anything different."

"I don’t, either," he said. "Look, I agree, we’ve only been together a month, maybe I’m being premature, but there’s a certain word that starts with the letter ‘m’ that seems to want to force its way into this discussion. I don’t even want to say the word right now, since I know I’m still gun-shy over Marsha, but damn it, this is totally different. I love you, Hudaroi."

"And I love you, Korican," she smiled. "And, I agree, I’m just a little gun-shy myself. Not because of you, but because of Kenny. Things are very different. It was just last week that we had to talk each other into officially living together, and as much as I love you I’m not sure that I want to marry you just yet. The concerns and doubts that we talked about then still stand for me, and I presume for you." She let out a sigh. "I’m not turning you down, Korican, but I do think it would be better if we waited for a while."

"That’s why I didn’t ask," he agreed. "I feel the same way. But, I have to say that even though I have sisters who lived with their boyfriends for a combined total of over a quarter century before they married them, I feel uncomfortable with just living with you without some more formal commitment. I mean, after a week ago at Josh and Tiffany’s, I realize there’s a dignity to you as a katara that Brandy or Jennifer didn’t have, and just casually living together like they did offends me in some way I can’t describe."

"I realize that," she sighed. "I feel it in a vague way myself. I think I said something to you about it when we were talking about living together. You basically said, ‘you’re dealing with an Evachevski, we’re used to dealing with such things,’ and that’s a tough argument. But yes, both as a katara and a businessperson, and you rapidly becoming one, it does have its moments of awkwardness. But beyond that, I’m no different than your sisters."

"Yes, you are different," he replied. "They’re only my sisters. You are my katara, my hudaroi, and my love. That’s a big difference in my book."

"Danny," she sighed again. "You do have a way with words. I agree, I would welcome a more formal commitment, but I think it needs to be short of marriage. What’s more I don’t think an engagement is quite the commitment we need to be thinking about if we’re living together."

"I couldn’t agree more," he nodded. He thought for a moment, "I almost hate to say this, but right at the moment, I’m thinking of Tara and Sylvia, and no, I’m not talking about anything to do with piercings. But because they’re both women, they can’t get married, so they had to come up with an alternative. Maybe we need to come up with our own alternative."

"That’s a thought," she agreed. "I don’t know what it would be. Now, I’m thinking of Jennifer and Blake and their wanting to redefine her image. Rather than take it to the family, they took it to Myleigh and Trey since they weren’t so close to them. Maybe we should do the same thing."

"You mean, Myleigh and Trey?"

"I was thinking more Ellen and Ruth, but maybe we’re too close to them, too. Perhaps Dorothy and Sarah. We are going to Three Pines tomorrow, aren’t we?"

"I’ve heard dumber ideas," he said. "Yeah, maybe we need some different minds on the problem."

*   *   *

They ate dinner out on the small plastic table beside the trailer, mostly looking out into the forest behind it, feeling that somehow they’d passed a milestone without seeing it. After they ate, Danny took the dishes in, then went to the trunk of the Lumina and brought back an armload of firewood, mostly small sticks and kindling, but some larger pieces. "I thought a fire would be nice," he grinned.

"I always like a fire," she replied as he started stacking sticks and kindling in a criss-cross pattern on top of the glowing coals, like she’d done the week before. "Oh, I see what you’re doing," she added. "You just had to try it, didn’t you?"

"Yep," he laughed. "Why do you think that I offered to grill steaks?"

"I knew you were up to something," she replied smugly.

Danny remembered her saying that she had to wait until she saw signs that the fire was just about to get going on its own before clapping his hands, but he wasn’t real sure what sort of signs she was talking about. In any case, he tried it a half a dozen times, without success.

"Ah, my korican," she said, getting up from the plastic lounge chair. "You’re not doing it right. You need to have skill and magic in your blood. Would you like me to demonstrate?"

"Go ahead," he sighed, knowing he was licked.

She walked over to the fire, glanced at it, spread her arms, stared up at the sky for a moment and seemed to mouth a silent prayer, then glanced down at the fire, chanting softly for a minute or more. Then, without warning, she gave one loud clap of her hands, and the fire sprang to life. "See?" she grinned. "It does help to have a little katara wisdom. And patience doesn’t hurt."

Danny shook his head. "Then what was the chanting and what looked like praying all about?"

"Showmanship," she snorted. "It still works on you, doesn’t it? Of course, I’m not above asking the spirits for their assistance."

"All right," he said. "Like you said, I’m just going to have to put up with mysterious once in a while."

"My korican," she said after she sat back down in the lounge chair. "I believe you said you had something else you wanted to seek katara wisdom on."

"I do," he sighed. "I probably should have brought this up to you a while ago, but I didn’t. It’s nothing that will break us up, or anything, but I’ve felt guilty as hell for months about it."

"Is this something with Marsha?" she asked.

"No," he sighed. "Someone else. Look, I haven’t said anything about this since I gave my word I wouldn’t say anything, but I think I need to tell you if for no more reason than to get the guilt out."

"If you gave your word, are you sure you want to tell me?" she asked.

"I think I need to," he said. "I thought about taking it to Ruth or Ellen, but I think you’ll understand better. Look, I think I can tell this without breaking my word, but, uhhh, it concerns someone I know, and we both know people who know her. So, I’m going to have to talk around some things, and there are some things that might identify her that I won’t say, all right?"

"If you feel comfortable with it," she said softly. "I won’t ask you to."

"All right," he said slowly. "This is a Redlite Ranch story I’ve never told anyone before, and you’ll see why in a minute. Debbie, I think I’ve made clear to you that there were some interesting women out there. Some of them I liked an awful lot, as people, and respected them. After I’d been there for a while, even the idea of prostitution seemed to make sense to me. And, in a way, I guess it still does, at least philosophically speaking."

"Yes," she said. "We’ve talked about that."

"I think it may have been because I didn’t know any of those women, not really," he said. "Oh yes, some became friends, but only after I knew they were prostitutes. I mean, I accepted them for what they were, and could go on from there. Well, one day, we had a new turnout come in. I’ll call this woman Mary, like I did one of the girls in another story, although it’s not the same woman from that story. Debbie, unlike the others, I knew Mary."

"Knew her?" she frowned. "You mean, from around here?"

"Not saying, identity issue," he said. "Let’s just say we were friends. Not real, real close friends or lovers or anything, but casual friends, like, say, John and Candice are to us. Debbie, it was not the same thing at all to watch someone I knew turn herself into a prostitute. I mean, I’m standing there polishing glasses, and thinking I ought to be saying something like, ‘Mary, do you have any idea of what you’re doing to yourself? Get the hell out of here and stay out!’"

"But, you didn’t," Debbie nodded softly.

"I didn’t," he admitted. "After all, I’m standing there in the middle of my prostitute friends, and my head said that there wasn’t any difference. But, my heart said there was. My head won, and I had to stand and watch as Mary stood her first lineup and took her first client out back." He was silent for a moment, then continued. "I still could have said something, I suppose, but the deed was done, and she’d branded herself. She was there for two weeks and took a number of clients out back. We talked several times, but I never could make myself say, ‘Mary, stop this.’ No, I had to be supportive."

"Danny, I could see how this could trouble you," Debbie nodded.

"It bugged me at the time, and it still bugs me," he said. "When she left, I knew she would be going back early this summer. I was back here for months, I could have called her up, and said ‘Mary, cut this shit out!’ I mean, I could have blown the whistle on her, and at some lonely times last winter before you came along, I even thought about going to her and saying, ‘Come with me, you don’t have to be a prostitute.’ But, I didn’t, because I knew it would be an extremely bad idea, one just as bad as Marsha and me, although different. That’s because I’ve come to realize that she is a prostitute, not because of what she did last winter, but because of what she is in the first place. I still feel guilty as hell about not putting my foot down. I didn’t, and as far as I know she’s out there right now."

"Danny, if you had said something, would it have made any difference?" she asked.

"Probably not," he sighed. "Oh, I could have pissed her off and pissed my friends off, but in the long run, it wouldn’t have mattered, because sooner or later she’d be in some other bed for money, and I think I realized that at the time. At least if she’s a house prostitute, she’s pretty safe. If she tried to do it as an independent, there’s an awful lot of risk of getting robbed, beat up, maybe murdered. Maybe it’s the lesser of two evils. I don’t know."

"And you’re feeling guilty because you stood by and watched something you thought was evil done, even though you knew it would make no difference if you’d said something?

"Essentially," he said. "The hell of it is that I can’t even say ‘evil.’ As I’ve told you before, it exists, and whether we like it or not, it’s going to exist, so if it’s going to be done, let it be done so it causes the minimum amount of damage to the people involved. The only difference between Mary and the other women out there was that I knew her, well, not as a prostitute, but before she became one. That made it personal. And, essentially, I turned my back on it."

Debbie sat and thought for a moment. "It says something good about you that you feel troubled by it," she said finally. "I always thought there was a dimension missing out of your Redlite Ranch stories, and now I see what it is. It just makes me feel better about you, my korican. And yes, we often let the mistakes of our heads overrule our hearts. Just because I am a katara, I am no different. Danny, it embarrasses me to say that my head has been holding my heart back from you a little because of the fact that you’re not an Indian, at least, not much, for no more reason than what I have to call Indian pride. When Jennifer told us about your Indian ancestry, it did away with a lot of that, because I could look at you and say that you’re at least a little Indian, that it makes a difference. Danny, it should not matter to me at all, and it’s only the evil of pride that made me think it should have made any difference. But, as far as your friend Mary, is she still not your friend, whether she’s a prostitute or not?"

"Well, yes," he said. "If she were to walk up here right now, I’d be glad to introduce you, and I think the two of you would like each other. You would find some interesting things to talk about. I would not tell you that she’s Mary, or that she’s a prostitute, and you wouldn’t know. It’ll probably never happen, but Hudaroi, I gave my word that I will not tell who she is. That is a secret that only she and I can share, just like you have katara things you can’t tell me." He snickered for a moment, then continued, "Call it a Redlite Ranch thing."

"I understand, Korican," she smiled. "Tell me this, now. Is she better off or worse off for being a prostitute?"

"Amazingly enough, I think better. At least being at the Redlite. It’s a money thing with her; she’s trying to raise her children without enough support. There are other things she could do, though, that aren’t quite as dishonorable, although probably not as financially rewarding, either."

"Think of the woman you told me about who’s working as a prostitute to put herself through medical school, or the two women who teamed up to raise their children," Debbie smiled. "Other than degree, is there really any big difference?"

Danny looked at her for a moment. "Well, when you put it that way, no."

"But you still feel guilty?"

"Yeah," he said. "I mean I could have done something."

"I don’t know that you could have," she shook her head. "Oh, yes, you could have said something, but would it have made any difference? You could have even thrown your body into stopping her, though you probably would have failed and your spirit would have been wounded even worse if you had, right?"

"Pretty much," he said glumly.

"Danny, a week ago tonight, I told John and Candice that they had to give their problems to the spirits. I told you it was a symbolic gesture on their part, since they knew the right thing but couldn’t admit it. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you that. You know you may have not done the right thing in your eyes, but you know now that the time you could have done something is past, and that the right thing for you now is that you have to give it up, don’t you? Would you be willing to symbolically give your concerns to the spirits, the same was John and Candice did? If it will help make you believe, I’d be willing to give my concerns about you’re not being enough of an Indian to the spirits at the same time."

"It can’t hurt," he said neutrally.

"Trust me, korican," she smiled. "After all, I am your katara. Whether or not you believe in the spirits, you believe in me, don’t you?"

"Well, yeah," he grinned. "You’re OK, Debbie."

"You’re OK, Danny," she smiled back. "I’ll run in and get the paper and envelopes."

A few minutes later, the two of them stood in front of the small fire in the center of the barbecue grill. Debbie had told him there wasn’t any need to go into detail with his letter to the spirits – after all, he’d already told her and them of his concerns, but he at least needed to tell them Mary’s real name. So, sealed in the envelope were only the words, "Amy Austenfelter." After a few words in Shakahatche, they both lit the corners of their envelope on fire.

As he watched the envelope burn in his hand, he realized that the Redlite Ranch was a long way in his past. He’d been able to move on past it, to something better, at least something better for him. The place had taught him some lessons, and some he was still learning, and perhaps there were some left to be taught to him in the years to come. Like Brenda’s handcuffs, like Debbie’s vision quest, it had been an important experience, one that changed his life. But there finally came a time when the handcuffs had to be unlocked, the leather straps untied . . . and the burning envelope dropped onto the hot coals.

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