Eagle, Kathleen (6 page)

"I
know who we are. The ol' man drummed it into me good." He'd been thinking
about it, too, couldn't help thinking about it with his father's hoard of stuff
surrounding him out there at the place and that voice that was like a damned
recording in his head. "He missed out with Carter, so I got a double dose
of Lakota history. I don't know how we could've lost so much ground the way we
kept 'whipping their asses,' to hear him tell it."

"Here
lately he was on TV almost as much as you used to be. All them Indian history
shows they've been making?" Titus sketched the titles in the air. "
'Roy Blue Sky, tribal elder,' written right across the bottom of the screen,
with him sitting there dressed up all snazzy and telling it from our side. He
was getting to be more famous than Russell Means."

"I've
got some of the videotapes."

"Ordered
them off the toll-free number on TV?" After Reese nodded, Titus said,
"I called, too, but you gotta have a credit card."

Reese
had almost forgotten how difficult it was to get credit when you lived on a
reservation. But this casino was a different story. A new story, one that might
have some gold teeth.

"What
do you do around here? What's a gambling commissioner?" Reese smiled and
raised an eyebrow. "You got a job, or just a title?"

"I'm
like the watchdog. I'm looking after the tribe's interests. Ten Star—you know,
the management company the tribe hired to set this thing up—well, they look
after
their
interests pretty good. Me, I'm on the Bad River Gaming
Commission. When I walk through that door, these people better be shifting
their asses into high gear. There's not much that gets past me. Hell, you know
that." Titus stabbed a finger across the table. "We were a team, Blue.
This state's never seen anything like us, before or since."

"I
know."

"You
won more games with us than you did with the Minneapolis Mavericks."

It
wasn't true, but Reese nodded anyway.

"You
were great with them, too. First year?" Titus shrugged that one off.
"You were just startin' out. After that, those next few seasons? You were
something else, man."

Reese
nodded again. He knew how to deal with this now. He had plenty of practice at
sitting there and letting it wash over him while he thought about something
else, like maybe he ought to polish up his blackjack game and take Helen on
again.

But
Titus was wound up on coffee and glory days. "All that time there were
seven of us guys back here living those years with you," he was saying,
"helping you get your mileage out of it. Four times seven, that's
twenty-eight years, man. That's a damned good career."

"But
after that..."

"After
that you got the hard-luck trophy for us a couple of times. I got a hell of a
load of sympathy because you were hurtin' so bad, and I was hurtin' for you. I
got laid more than once on your account."

"No
shit?" Reese laughed. "I sure got the short end of that stick."

"Tuwale,"
Titus
admonished. "You worry about your stick, I'll worry about mine." He
sat back, grinning. "You really like that city life?"

"It
has its advantages."

"I
ain't lyin', we could use a limo service. We've got a lot of competition in
this business. We could use some of those advantages. Even one. Even one
advantage would help."

"You've
got that federal gaming act. Some people out in Atlantic City claim that's a
hell of an advantage."

"It's
an advantage for anybody who knows how use it. Outfits like Ten Star. And maybe
for those hundred-member tribes all of a sudden popping their heads out of the
woods. But, hell, we've got some jobs out of the deal. We've got this place.
It's a nice place to go have a little fun, get a good meal. And it's
ours.
The
Bad River Sioux Tribe welcomes you."

"Lakota
Nation," Reese amended with a smile.

Titus
looked him in the eye. "Come on back home, Blue."

"I'm
back in school," Reese averred. "One more semester, I'll have my
degree."

"You
already went to college."

"Started.
Didn't finish. All I could think about was playing basketball and making a pile
of money. When I started having problems with—with injuries, all I could think
about was myself, you know, how my whole body was..." He looked at Titus
for a moment. Injuries, yeah, he'd understand bone chips and torn ligaments.
But some muscles were more vital than others, and a guy hated to talk about those
over coffee. He dismissed his body with a quick gesture. "Now I'm back in
school, and I'm getting that degree this time so I can do something with
myself."

"The
limo business ain't workin' out?"

"You
know why I started that?"

Titus
shrugged and leaned closer to find out.

"A
driver refused to take my check. I went to an ATM, got him his cash, told him
to start looking for another job 'cause I was gonna buy his car right out from
under him."

"Didn't
he know who you were?"

"Hell,
Titus, I ain't exactly Magic."

The
laugh they shared was interrupted by a ruckus in an alcove close by.

"No!"
a woman shouted. "No, I can't go home without that money!"

Titus
turned around in his seat to see what was going on. Reese had a feeling he
didn't want to know, but he asked anyway. "What's back there?"

"Offices,"
Titus said. "Crying room."

"Crying
room?"

"That's
what I call it. People win big-time, you wanna put 'em on display. People lose
big-time, you kinda wish they'd tough it out quietly, you know? Like we've been
doing for how long now?"

A
plump, middle-aged, red-eyed woman backed into view through an open door in the
alcove. "I need to see the manager. I just want to talk to him."
Somebody in the room was talking to her, but she was having none of it.
"No, you get me the manager first."

Reese
counted three employees in the immediate vicinity getting on their
walkie-talkies. Two security guards appeared, each quickly taking hold of an
arm, but the woman hauled back on them. "No, I'm not leaving. Not without
my money."

Carter
emerged from another door and said something to her in a low tone.

"But
I didn't know what was happening," she said, trying to square herself up
and claim some semblance of composure. "I don't know what came over me. I
didn't realize I'd lost that much. I thought—"

Carter's
quiet response wasn't what she wanted to hear, so she turned to the white
security guard. "See, I thought I'd put most of it away. Right here,
see?" She thrust her hand into her shoulder bag and brandished a small
pouch. "This is my safe keeping. I always—I
never
dip into..."

The
three men were moving the woman a few steps at a time, Carter walking and
talking with his head bowed. They'd almost reached a "Staff Only"
door when she balked again. "I want my money back."

"We
can't do that, Marilyn," Carter said. "We can't refund your losses.
You know the rules."

"It
wasn't fair." She was wild-eyed now, and Reese could almost feel her heart
pounding, which made him very uncomfortable. "The game wasn't fair. It
wasn't... and I wasn't even playing that long. I just came in—"

"You
were in here yesterday, Marilyn."

"I
know, but..." Her voice became a small, sorrowful, squeaky thing.
"Paul's gonna kill me."

"Where
is he? Is he at home? I can call him if you want me to."

"No.
Please, just give me
half of
it back."

"I
can't do that, Marilyn. It isn't in my power to do that."

"That
was our whole..." The woman grabbed Carter's sleeve, raised herself on
tiptoe, and whispered something to him.

"I'm
sorry, Marilyn. I don't know what to say, except that I'm really sorry."
Carter motioned for more assistance. "Next time you come in, you'll have
better luck. You're one of our big winners."

"Not
since last winter. I haven't won big since..." She was cornered, with
still more uniforms moving in. Carter didn't seem to mind her death grip on his
arm. "You have to give me some of it. Otherwise I can't... I
can't..."

She
was trapped. Reese wanted to tell the poor woman to use her elbows, get herself
out of there, and he didn't realize he was on his way to his feet until Titus
laid a hand on his arm.

Then,
out of nowhere, Helen glided into the pack.

"Take
Marilyn in the office and help her call someone," Carter told Helen.

Helen
put her arm around the woman, wresting her from Security's muscle power and
Carter's authority. "Is there a friend we can call for you? Someone
who—"

"No!
I don't want anybody knowing about this. It was a mistake. I made a mistake.
Please,
please
help me get some of it back."

"We'll
talk about it in the office," Helen soothed.

"It
was..." The woman latched onto Helen now, clearly hoping she finally had
an ally. "We ran some bred heifers through the sale ring last week. I
picked up the check. I cashed it. I was going to pay some—some bills. I
have
to pay those bills. Otherwise we won't have any—"

"Jesus,"
Reese muttered to Titus, but he was looking at his brother, who was beyond
earshot. "Just give the woman her damn money back."

"Is
that the way they do it in the big city?" Titus wondered.

"I
don't know how they do it. And this isn't the big city. And it's a hell of a
way to..." He was on his feet now, and Titus was right beside him.
"Make a living? Are we making a living here?"

He
dropped some money on the table, but Titus picked it up. "Not on coffee,
we're not makin' a living. Coffee's free, and there's no tipping. It's called
hospitality." He slapped the cash into Reese's palm. "You think this
was bad? I saw a guy lose his whole calf check once."

"Christ."
Reese felt guilty about shoving his money back in his jeans when he could still
hear that woman sobbing.

"But
I've seen guys spend their last quarter on a bottle of Thunderbird, and so have
you. When you get down to it, it's the same damn thing."

"Beautiful."

"How
do they handle it out where you are?"

"I
don't know."

"Tell
you one thing for sure, they don't give the money back."

Reese
couldn't help glancing toward the office, meeting Helen's eyes for a moment. It
was an odd look she gave him, as though she was trapped, too, and frantic and
frightened. Frightened for the woman, maybe, or maybe
because
of the
woman; could be she didn't want to be alone with her. He sure as hell wouldn't.
It was a fleeting look, and maybe he'd read it all wrong.

And
maybe he'd stick around a little while longer.

"That
Helen is a born social worker," Carter said as he joined Reese and Titus.
"Whatever kind of anonymous you want to be, she's got the phone number
handy."

"She's
a teacher," Reese said, as if that explained any and all resourcefulness.

"She
was,"
Carter said. "She says she's looking to be again. Maybe
she'll stick around this time."

"Is
that part of her job, dealing with losers in distress?"

"Not
really, but like I say, she's good at it. I could just tell Security to take
the woman out, but that's the kind of scene that's bad for business."
Carter shrugged. "Besides, she's local. We care about our local
customers."

"She's
not from here," Reese clarified, "from here" meaning Bad River,
meaning Indian or part Indian or married to an Indian. He realized he was
saying
She's not one of us,
and he hadn't thought in those terms in a
long time.

"She
and her husband have a ranch across the river. He's a big ol' ham-fisted
redneck. I don't blame her for not wanting to go home." Carter glanced at
Titus. "Hell, as much money as she dropped here in the last couple days,
I'd probably want to kill her, too."

"Can't
you just..." Reese knew this was going to sound very stupid, but what
could it hurt? "Give her
some
of it back?"

Carter
tapped Titus's shoulder. "We'd be out of business in a month if my brother
ran this place."

"What
if he does kill her?" Reese said.

"She's
over twenty-one. Time to grow up. This is what you call adult entertainment.
We're not playing for points. We're playing for cold cash. And it's about damn
time we had some of that coming our way, right, Titus?"

Titus
nodded. "We donate to Gamblers Anonymous and to a couple of treatment
facilities."

"Most
people just come here to have a little fun," Carter added. "They
spend twenty, fifty, a hundred bucks, and they go home. Some of them go home
with a nice jackpot. When that happens, their husbands or wives are damn glad
to see them."