against his shoulders, curved like two unstrung bows.
"You're looking fit as ever, Dewey." Clara offered her father-in-law a demure handshake.
Dewey, in turn, offered Clara a chair close to the wood-burning stove. "I'm doin' okay. You must be pretty fit yourself. Hear you're gonna go with us on the ride."
She slid a quizzical glance from Ben's face to Anna's as she draped her jacket on the back of the chair. "I am?"
"Annie's been talkin' like it's a done deal," Ben reported. He straddled a tattered kitchen chair and folded his arms on the backrest.
"And you said you'd have to go if I did," Anna reminded her mother. "You said you were gonna take some extra time off at Christmas anyway. It'll be a good time for a vacation."
"It would be a good time to go to Arizona for a vacation." With a smile Clara added, "I'd become a snowbird if I could afford to."
"See, that's my problem," Ben said. "I can't afford to take the time away from the shop."
Dewey lurched to his feet and headed for the stove. "Annie, you help me with the coffee."
"Sure, Lala."
Doggedly Ben passed a hand over his face and came up resting his chin in the crotch of his thumb. "Dad, people really need their vehicles in the winter, and that's when these rez runners break down the most. I hate to close up shop."
"You got a helper now," his father said tonelessly as he poured strong stove-top coffee into the first mug Anna handed him.
"Yeah, but he's not ready to take over for that long."
"And you're not ready to take over for me, so don't be thinkin' I'd step aside, either."
"Yeah, you wish." Ben chuckled ruefully, then cast Clara an incredulous look. "So, what, you've decided to go?"
Before she could answer, Anna handed her a cup of coffee. "Lala, can you take the pipe out again so my mom can see it?"
"She's seen it before."
"Yeah, but let her see it now. Anyway, I wanna see it again before we go home." She touched her mother's arm. "It's real old, Mom. You can just tell it's, like, an actual relic, and it's not even stuffed in a glass case or anything."
"And it won't be. Not as long as we have a pipe carrier." Dewey handed Anna a cup of coffee for her father, then took the red bundle down from the cupboard and claimed a cup for himself. "The pipe is only sacred if it is used for sacred purposes. Its age means nothing. Just look at me." Hands full, he squatted over his chair and lowered himself carefully. When the feat was accomplished, he nodded. "I'm pretty old myself."
"Glad you finally realized," Ben muttered.
But no one paid him any mind.
"Tell Mom about my great-great-grandfather, Lala. Tell her the story about Iron Hammer."
"Haven't I told you that one?" Dewey set his coffee on the yellowed linoleum floor and started loosening the ties on the red felt bundle. "About my grandfather bein' at Wounded Knee?"
"I think you might have, but it's been a long time."
Dewey nodded, his attention focused on old fingers and stubborn knots. "You always listen better than my son. Ben, he can't sit still for a story. Rather be out there messin' around with horses or cars."
"I've heard 'em all," Ben said. "And I don't forget 'em, so you don't have to keep—"
"That's the way it's supposed to be. You don't forget the stories, or we'll have other people remembering them for us. Their way." Lovingly he unrolled the long felt strip as he spoke. "But not your wife. She isn't like that. I read that paper she wrote when she was in school. It was a good one."
"Well, sure," Ben said with a smile. "It had Dewey Pipestone written all over it."
"How would you know, Ben?" Clara challenged. "You never read it."
"Yeah, I did. That's how I found out how smart you were. I had to get out the damn dictionary." Ben wrinkled his nose and gave a nod in Anna's direction, as though he had the final say. "It was pretty good, though."
"But did you know that Iron Hammer was there when Sitting Bull was murdered?" Anna took a cross-legged seat on the floor at her grandfather's
"You're looking fit as ever, Dewey." Clara offered her father-in-law a demure handshake.
Dewey, in turn, offered Clara a chair close to the wood-burning stove. "I'm doin' okay. You must be pretty fit yourself. Hear you're gonna go with us on the ride."
She slid a quizzical glance from Ben's face to Anna's as she draped her jacket on the back of the chair. "I am?"
"Annie's been talkin' like it's a done deal," Ben reported. He straddled a tattered kitchen chair and folded his arms on the backrest.
"And you said you'd have to go if I did," Anna reminded her mother. "You said you were gonna take some extra time off at Christmas anyway. It'll be a good time for a vacation."
"It would be a good time to go to Arizona for a vacation." With a smile Clara added, "I'd become a snowbird if I could afford to."
"See, that's my problem," Ben said. "I can't afford to take the time away from the shop."
Dewey lurched to his feet and headed for the stove. "Annie, you help me with the coffee."
"Sure, Lala."
Doggedly Ben passed a hand over his face and came up resting his chin in the crotch of his thumb. "Dad, people really need their vehicles in the winter, and that's when these rez runners break down the most. I hate to close up shop."
"You got a helper now," his father said tonelessly as he poured strong stove-top coffee into the first mug Anna handed him.
"Yeah, but he's not ready to take over for that long."
"And you're not ready to take over for me, so don't be thinkin' I'd step aside, either."
"Yeah, you wish." Ben chuckled ruefully, then cast Clara an incredulous look. "So, what, you've decided to go?"
Before she could answer, Anna handed her a cup of coffee. "Lala, can you take the pipe out again so my mom can see it?"
"She's seen it before."
"Yeah, but let her see it now. Anyway, I wanna see it again before we go home." She touched her mother's arm. "It's real old, Mom. You can just tell it's, like, an actual relic, and it's not even stuffed in a glass case or anything."
"And it won't be. Not as long as we have a pipe carrier." Dewey handed Anna a cup of coffee for her father, then took the red bundle down from the cupboard and claimed a cup for himself. "The pipe is only sacred if it is used for sacred purposes. Its age means nothing. Just look at me." Hands full, he squatted over his chair and lowered himself carefully. When the feat was accomplished, he nodded. "I'm pretty old myself."
"Glad you finally realized," Ben muttered.
But no one paid him any mind.
"Tell Mom about my great-great-grandfather, Lala. Tell her the story about Iron Hammer."
"Haven't I told you that one?" Dewey set his coffee on the yellowed linoleum floor and started loosening the ties on the red felt bundle. "About my grandfather bein' at Wounded Knee?"
"I think you might have, but it's been a long time."
Dewey nodded, his attention focused on old fingers and stubborn knots. "You always listen better than my son. Ben, he can't sit still for a story. Rather be out there messin' around with horses or cars."
"I've heard 'em all," Ben said. "And I don't forget 'em, so you don't have to keep—"
"That's the way it's supposed to be. You don't forget the stories, or we'll have other people remembering them for us. Their way." Lovingly he unrolled the long felt strip as he spoke. "But not your wife. She isn't like that. I read that paper she wrote when she was in school. It was a good one."
"Well, sure," Ben said with a smile. "It had Dewey Pipestone written all over it."
"How would you know, Ben?" Clara challenged. "You never read it."
"Yeah, I did. That's how I found out how smart you were. I had to get out the damn dictionary." Ben wrinkled his nose and gave a nod in Anna's direction, as though he had the final say. "It was pretty good, though."
"But did you know that Iron Hammer was there when Sitting Bull was murdered?" Anna took a cross-legged seat on the floor at her grandfather's
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