Free Fire by C.J. Box

to establish one. I want to get more information on him, and I want to talk to him.”
    Nate said, “I ought to just drive up there and blow his head off. Everybody would be happy. Hell, he’s a murderer and a lawyer.”
    Joe smiled grimly. “That’s not why I’m here.”
    “So, why are you here?” Nate asked, knowing the answer.
    “I want to ask you if you’ll help me out with this one.”
    “You didn’t even need to ask.”
    Joe hesitated before he said, “I wanted to see if you were still on your game.”
    “Meaning what?” Nate asked, offended.
    Joe sat back and gestured around Alisha Whiteplume’s kitchen. “Meaning this .”
    Nate was in love.
    Alisha Whiteplume taught third grade and coached at the high school on the reservation. She had a master’s degree in electrical engineering and a minor in American history and had married a white golf pro she met in college. After working in Denver for six years and watching her marriage fade away as the golf pro toured and strayed, she divorced him and returned to the reservation to teach, saying she felt an obligation to give something back to her people. Nate met her while he was scoutingfor a lek of sage chickens for his falcons to hunt. When he first saw her she was on a long walk by herself through the knee-high sagebrush in the breaklands. She walked with purpose,talking to herself and gesticulating with her hands. She had no idea he was there. When he drove up she looked directly at him with surprise. Realizing how far she had come from the res, she asked him for a ride back to her house. He invited her to climb into his Jeep, and while he drove her home she told him she liked the idea of being back but was having trouble with reentry.
    “How can you find balance in a place where the same boys who participate in a sundance where they seek a vision and pierce themselves are also obsessed with Grand Theft Auto on PlayStation Two?” she asked. Nate had no answer to that.
    She said her struggle was made worse when her brother Bob intimated that he always knew she would come back since everybody did when they found out they couldn’t hack it on the outside. She told Nate that during the walk she had been arguingwith herself about returning, weighing the frustration of day-to-day life on the reservation and dealing with Bobby against her desire to teach the children of her friends, relatives, and tribal members. Later, Nate showed her his birds and invitedher on a hunt. She went along and said she appreciated the combination of grace and savagery of falconry, and saw the same elements in him. He took it as a compliment. They went back to her house that night. That was three months ago. Now he spent at least three nights a week there, and it was Alisha’s house where Joe located Nate.
    Nate was still wanted for questioning by the FBI but thus far had eluded them. Apparently, the FBI had its hands full with more pressing matters. It had been months since Special Agent Tony Portenson had been in the area asking Joe if he’d seen his friend lately.
    “What, you think I’ve been domesticated?” Nate asked, incredulous.“You think I’ve lost my edge?”
    Joe didn’t answer. He had noticed how Nate’s middle had gone soft as a result of Alisha’s good cooking. Before Alisha, Nate had survived at his stone house on the banks of the river by hacking off cuts of antelope that hung in the meat cellar and grilling the steaks. Now, he sat down to real meals at least twice a day.
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “I’ll never go back on my word,” Nate said, in reference to the vow he’d made to help Joe when he asked or when he simplyneeded it whether or not he asked. Nate had made the promiseyears before when Joe proved his innocence after Nate had been charged with a murder he didn’t commit.
    “I’m leaving tomorrow,” Joe said.
    At that moment, the door opened and Alisha Whiteplume entered carrying two bags of groceries. Joe and Nate stood, and each