Danny could tell that Debbie was nervous as hell as she sat cuddled up next to him on the way out of Spearfish Lake the following Sunday afternoon. He thought she had every right to be nervous, too.

"You still sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"Hell, no," she snorted. "I don’t want to do this at all. Do I need to do this? Yes, I think I do, at least if we’re going through with next Saturday night."

"Your choice," he shrugged from behind the wheel of the Lumina. Given a choice on the nice summer days like this, he’d rather take the Tracker so they could ride with the top down, but at least the Lumina had a good air conditioner, and it was hot enough to want it. Not that Debbie wasn’t visibly sweating, anyway. "At least it works with Jennifer and Blake," he commented, in an attempt to change the subject and put off the inevitable.

"Yes," she sighed. "They were very nice about it, and really, I can’t think of a better place to do it."

"Oh, we could do it in a park, someplace," Danny shrugged. "Maybe down on the beach near John and Candice’s. I thought about Josh and Tiffany’s, maybe, but when you get right down to it, this is a family thing and Jennifer and Blake are family, after all."

"I know," she said, relaxing with the thought of something more comforting. "Danny, I know we were a while hammering it out, and I thought Dorothy and Sarah came up with some very good points. I really think it’s the best solution."

"I do, too," he nodded. "There were several there that I really hadn’t thought of in quite that way. Katara wisdom strikes again."

"It shows, doesn’t it?" she said. "You know, in comparison to any of them, I’m really a newcomer as a katara, and I’m very junior compared to them. It takes a while for that kind of wisdom to build, and I’m still working on it. I probably will be until I die."

"The wisdom of the old women," he smiled. "I guess I’d never thought of that definition of kataras, but it’s pretty true, isn’t it?"

"Katara means that as much as anything else," she nodded. "In fact, probably more. I hate the thought of growing old in a way, but it’s one thing to look forward to. And if being a katara means more when I’m old than it does today, it’ll have been worth it."

"Maybe it will," he shrugged. "Maybe this is so much psychobabble bullshit, but you kataras have been gaining ground in keeping the traditions of The People alive the last few years, haven’t you? Maybe the casino is actually helping. I mean, it’s hard to think about culture and history and tradition when you’re worrying about where your next meal is going to come from."

"Probably true, I think," she said. "I mean, there are half again the Shakahatche speakers now than there were twenty years ago, when Ellen started to revive it. Not that it adds up to a lot of people, but at least it’s more." She let out a sigh. "In a way it’s a shame that no one uses it as a primary language any more, and there’s nobody who speaks it who doesn’t speak English as well or better. So that means it will never be widespread again. But damn it, Danny, there are some things that a Shakahatche can say in the language of The People that just can’t be said in English, and you know that as well as I do. I know you’re still a beginner, but Ellen is both pleased and proud at the way you’ve advanced."

"Talent for languages, as much as anything," he shrugged. "And, of course, I do have an intense interest."

"I really appreciate that," she nodded. "You have gone out of your way to try and understand my traditions. And that makes me more ashamed than anything else about being so nervous about this."

"Not to worry," he smiled. "Really, it would be no skin off my butt if we were to turn around right now."

"But I think it would be off of mine," she protested as he slowed for the turn onto the gravel of County Road 919. "That’s why I said I think I need to do this."

"Like I said, you’re not shaming me, if you want to go back," he tried to comfort her. "It really is not that big a deal to me."

"It matters to more than you," she said, hanging her head down. She was silent, but Danny could see her moving her lips – chanting or praying, or something, trying to build up her courage. Oh, well, he’d tried to talk her out of it, but maybe she was right.

It had been a while since he’d been out this way, nearly a year, but he knew the way well, and soon turned down a narrow gravel road through the woods. It was almost automatic to pull up to the gate and enter the code on the keypad. The gate opened in front of him, and he pulled ahead. "We can still turn back," he offered.

"No, damn it," she said, full of determination. "We’ve gone this far, I’ll just have to do it."

"Remember, bracelets, necklace, anklets," he prodded. "It’s sort of the reverse of how it works for me, but it’s the same thing, after all. Symbolism, nothing more. You kataras are good at that."

"I know," she sighed. "Good spirits, what is that? That building up ahead?"

"It’s called ‘Commons,’" Danny smiled. "One of the largest log buildings in the world. It was designed by Randy’s grandmother, back in the early fifties. It’s very likely that it’s the most famous building in the county, maybe even in this part of the state, but not a person in a hundred from Spearfish County has ever seen it."

"I’d never seen it," she shook her head. "And I can understand why. But it really is something."

"Kind of an interesting philosophy there," he commented, sounding almost like a tour guide. Right now, he was. "I’ve heard you talk about the socialist way that The People handle the casino. Great-Grandpa Ingstadt and Grandma Matson were both pretty socialist in several respects. They were both great believers in the equality of the people, how no one should put on airs over another. But at the same time, they didn’t think that the people couldn’t have something spectacular and luxurious to share among themselves for their comfort. That’s part of the reason why Commons is so grand, and all the cottages you’ll see are very modest by comparison. While the cottages are privately owned, the land is leased. Any exterior improvements to an individual cottage have to be passed by a building code committee, and they’re both strict and a bit pissy."

"It does seem a bit of a lip service to socialism," she nodded distantly.

"That’s not what I’d call it, but it is tradition and culture of its own sort. That’s probably part of the reason I’ve been able to accept Shakahatche tradition and culture so easily, I’m used to non-mainstream cultures anyway."

"That’s exactly what I meant a few minutes ago," she agreed, obviously lost in her own thoughts. "You can do it for me, but I’m having a hell of a time doing it for you."

"Relax," he said, half in a mood to tease, just because she was so nervous. "The first time is the hardest, just like a new turnout at the Redlite Ranch."

"Oh, shit, Korican!" she shook her head. "Why did you have to bring that up now, of all times?"

"To loosen you up," he laughed as he turned into the driveway. "And you needed it. And for better or worse, here we are." He put the Lumina in park, and shut off the engine, as he watched Debbie praying again. "Hang in there, Hudaroi," he said as he popped open the door.

He glanced over at Debbie; she was opening her door, too. "You know, Korican?" she smiled. "Maybe there is one special advantage of being an Indian. Nobody can see you blush."

"Come on, Hudaroi," he grinned, opening the door. "Let’s get this over with." He stood up and looked around. No, nothing much had changed here; it was still all very familiar.

"Why Danny, Debbie!" he heard his mother call. "What a surprise! Take off your clothes and stay a while!"

Danny glanced over at Debbie. Maybe she thought an Indian couldn’t blush, but if they couldn’t it was the damnedest imitation he’d ever seen. Oh, well, let’s at least make the offer to make it easy on her. "We really can’t stay long," he said. "We have a fair amount we have to get done today, but we needed to see you for a few minutes."

"Oh, don’t rush off," Carrie said. She was lying back in a lounge chair, getting some sun, so she was wearing sunglasses – nothing else. His mother in the nude wasn’t a bad-looking woman for pushing sixty, he thought. Shirley wasn’t that much older and looked a hell of a lot worse. "If you’re trying to lie low from Bob and Linda, they had to go to a wedding down in Camden today. Some cousin or niece or someone, I didn’t get it."

"It’s not so much that," Danny said tentatively. "I didn’t realize how much the place is haunted by memories of Marsha. I’m sort of hoping Debbie can drive them back a little, but if she can’t it may be the last time I come out here for a while." It really was the truth, and if Debbie didn’t take to the Club well, it would provide a perfect cover story for the future. As far as that went, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to come out here again, anyway, but Debbie had felt like she should attempt it at least once.

"I didn’t think of that, but I suppose you’re right." Carrie nodded, thinking for a second before continuing, "Danny, your father is inside, he should be out in a minute. We were just thinking about strolling down to Commons, they have a nice lentil stew today. One of your grandmother’s old recipes, I think."

"Oh, spirits, what the hell," Debbie shook her head and began to peel off her T-shirt. "We’re not in that big a rush."

"Debbie, would you like some suntan lotion?" Gil offered from the small porch on the front of the modest blue cottage.

"I could stand some," Danny said, and Gil tossed him a plastic bottle.

"I’ll take a pass," Debbie smiled. "I don’t burn much, and I’ve never had to worry about trying to get a tan."

"Lucky you," Carrie smiled. "Danny, did you ever tell her about the famous Evachevski sunburn?"

"No, it’s never come up," he grinned. Debbie seemed to be easing up a little; like he’d told her, the first time is the hardest. He’d seen it before. It was usually easier for women than it was for men; Phil had never been able to hack it, for example. But then, neither had Michelle. Helplessly, he wondered if Tara and Sylvia had been out there recently . . .

"It really wasn’t funny, but I couldn’t help laughing," Carrie smiled as Debbie slipped out of her jeans; by now, she was down to a wide boneworked and quillworked beaded necklace, and matching wristlets and anklets. At least privately between Danny and her, that counted as dressed. Danny was hoping the symbolism would stick with her as he slipped his own pants off.

"I didn’t think it was very funny," Gil snorted. "Of course I was the one that got it."

"Come, Debbie, sit down," Carrie offered, and told the story. "When Gil came back from Vietnam, God, almost forty years ago, he’d spent months working out in the sun without a shirt, so from the waist up he was about as brown as you are. But from the waist down, he was about as pink as Danny is. So the first thing he did was go out on the golf course and play eighteen holes without sunscreen. It sort of put a damper on our other welcome home activities."

"Prior planning prevents piss poor performance," Gil shook his head. "So, what brings you kids out, anyway?"

"Are you doing anything next Saturday night?" Danny asked.

"Probably nothing that can’t be put down," Gil nodded.

"Good," Danny said, going over to rest his hand on Debbie’s bare shoulder. "Jennifer and Blake just got done offering to host a special gathering for us at their place. It’ll be late, dinner starting at eight. We’re planning on inviting the whole family, plus a few others, but having the two of you there leads the list."

"What’s this gathering for?" Carrie asked, suspecting something.

"A special ceremony," Debbie said, trying not very well to cover up that smug ‘I’ve got a seeeecret’ look on her face.

"What kind of ceremony?" Carrie asked suspiciously. "Are you kids telling us you’re getting married?"

"No," Danny grinned. "Not right now, anyway."

"Engaged then?" Carrie pried.

"No, not that, either," Debbie snickered, knowing she had Carrie on the run.

"Is this some tribal thing?" Gil frowned, getting a little confused.

"No, not exactly," Debbie laughed.

"Look, Mom, Dad," Danny said, "just, er, keep your shirts on, so to speak. That’s about all Debbie and I are going to say right now. This is a little unusual, and it will take some explaining. It could be very easy to misunderstand, especially since this is something new to us, too."

"To top it off, we’re not the best people to explain some of the ins and outs, and there is some katara stuff involved," Debbie added. "So, you’re just going to have to wait with everyone else. We’ll be very happy to have you next Saturday, and we think you’ll understand better when it happens. We really don’t want to discuss it any more than that right now, so we won’t. Danny, is this lentil stew of your grandmother’s any good?"

"It’s about the best thing they serve over in Commons," he said. "I don’t know if I mentioned it, but Commons is exclusively vegetarian."

"Good," Debbie grinned. "If we can stay off the subject of what’s happening next Saturday, I wouldn’t mind if we went over and tried the stew. I’d really like to have a closer look at the building, anyway. Otherwise, maybe we’d better get going so we can talk to some other people."

"Debbie," Carrie sighed, "you drive a hard bargain. All right, I’ll wait. With great curiosity and bated breath, but I’ll wait."

"Curiosity is good for you," Debbie laughed. "It keeps the blood flowing."

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